ty4^....!^..v: 


COS 


(r../'*:^.K... 


GIFT   OF 
W.   H.    Ivie 


SANDERS' 


UNION  FIFTH  READER: 


EMBRACING  A  FULL  EXPOSITION  OF  THE 


PRINCIPLES  OF  RHETORICAL  READING ; 


NUMEROUS    EXERCISES    FOR    PRACTICE,  BOTH    IN  PROSE  AND  POETRY 

FROM  THE  BEST   WRITERS;   AND  WITH   LITERARY  AND 

I?IOGRAPHICAL   NOTES. 

FOR  y.HF,      ,.      ,      ,     , 

HIGHER  CLASSES  IN  SCHOOLS,  ACADEMIES,  ETC. 


By  CHARLES  W.   SANDERS,  A.M., 

AUTHOR    Ot    A    SEKIE3    OK   SCHOOL-READKUS,    TOUNG    LADIES'   READER,   Sl'EAKER,   UMIOH 
8PELLBR,  ANALYSIS  OF  KNGLISU  WORDS,  ELOCUTIONARY  CHART,  ETC. 


IVISON,  BLAKEMAN,  TAYLOR  &  CO., 

PUBLISHERS, 
NEW    YORK    AND    CHICAGO. 

1S7S. 


NEWLY  ILLUSTRATED  AND  ENLARGED. 


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JUST    PUBLISHED. 

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jLntered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 
OHAELES    W.    SANDERS, 
ci  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


./ 


EDUCATION  DEPT. 


PREFACE. 


The  demand  for  a  greater  variety  of  reading  exercises  suit- 
able for  the  more  advanced  classes  in  our  public  schools  and 
academies,  has  led  to  the  preparation  of  the  present  volume, 
The  Union  Fifth  Reader  ;  and  the  title  of  the  previously  so- 
called  Union  Fifth  Reader  has  been  changed,  and  that  book 
will  hereafter  be  styled  The  Union  Sixth,  or  Rhetorical 
Reader. 

In  the  preparation  of  the  present  volume,  a  wide  range  of 
selections  has  been  made  in  order  to  present  every  variety 
of  style,  and  the  best  examples  for  the  exercise  of  Rhetorical 
reading,  and  such  as  are  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  expression 
of  every  tone  and  modulation  of  the  human  voice,  whether 
grave  or  gay,  humorous  or  pathetic,  simple  or  declamatory. 

Of  these  exercises,  both  oi  prose  and  poetry,  a  large  por- 
tion has  been  selected  from  speeches  and  writings  of  recent 
date,  and  which,  of  course,  have  never  been  used  in  any  other 
reading-book.  These  lessons  breathe  forth  the  sentiments  of 
loyalty,  and  tend  to  inspire  the  spirit  of  patriotism,  and  a  deeper 
devotion  to  the  cause  of  our  republican  institutions,  and  to  the 
welfare  of  our  whole  country. 

The  principles  of  Elocution,  which  have  been  explained  and 
illustrated  by  examples  in  the  fore  part  of  the  Union  Fourth 
and  Sixth  Readers,  and  which  have  been  tested  by  actual  ex- 
periment in  the  schoolroom  by  thousands  of  experienced  teach- 
ers, have  been  adopted  in  the  present  work.  These  principles 
should  be  thoroughly  studied  and  understood  by  the  pupil  in 

(vi56006    '" 


iv  PKEFACE. 

order  to  express  the  various  sentiments,  presented  in  the  Read- 
ing  Lessons,  in  the  most  elegant  and  appropriate  manner. 

That  the  pupil  may  clearly  understand  the  subjects,  all  the 
classical  terms,  and  such  words  and  phrases  as  seem  to  require 
it,  have  been  explained.  Wherever  allusion  is  made  to  proper 
names,  such  biographical  or  historical  account  has  been  given 
of  them,  in  brief  notes,  as  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  subject 
seemed  to  demand  ;  and,  wherever  there  is  a  liability  to  mistake, 
the  pronunciation  of  the  words  has  also  been  given,  and,  in 
some  cases,  their  analysis  and  definitions. 

In  the  preparation  of  reading-books  for  the  youth  of  our 
country,  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  place  before  their 
minds  lessons  not  only  of  literary  accuracy^  but  also  those  of  a 
high  moral  character.  In  these  respects,  the  present  work,  it 
is  believed,  will  be  found  to  contain  nothing  at  least  objection- 
able, even  to  the  most  fastidious. 

Nearly  thirty  years  ago,  the  author  published  his  first  series 
of  reading-books.  Since  that  time,  he  has  contributed  to  this 
department  of  literature  Twenty-two  Volumes  of-  lessons  for 
reading  and  speaking.  These  books  have  been  more  exten- 
sively used  in  the  schools  of  this  country  than  any  other ;  and 
several  of  the  lower  numbers  have  been  translated  into  the  dia- 
lects of  other  nations,  and  are  now  in  use  in  the  schools  of  for- 
eign countries  ;  an  evidence  of  the  appreciation  in  which  they 
are  held  by  educators  abroad,  and  of  their  adaptedness  to  the 
purposes  of  juvenile  instruction. 

That  the  Union  Fifth  Reader  may  serve  to  promote  the 
great  cause  of  education,  create  a  lively  interest  in  the  reading 
class,  improve  the  moral  and  intellectual  powers  of  the  youth 
of  our  country,  and  merit  that  favor  which  has  been  shown  to 
the  other  numbers  of  the  Union  Series,  has  been  the  aim  of  the 
author  in  its  preparation. 

New  York,  July,  1867. 


CONTENTS. 


PART     FIRST. 

ELOCUTION. 

FAOB. 

Section  I.  —  Articulation 13 

Elementary  Sounds  of  the  Letters 14 

Substitutes  for  the  Vowel  Elements 15 

Substitutes  for  the  Consonant  Elements 16 

Errors  in  Articulation 16 

Combinations  of  Consonants 17,  18 

Examples  to  illustrate  Indistinct  Articulation 19 

Miscellaneous  Examples 20 

Section  II.  —  Accent  and  Emphasis 21 

Examples   of  Primary  and  Secondary  Accent 21 

Examples   of  Intensive   Emphasis 22 

Examples  of  Absolute  Emphasis 23 

Examples  of  Antithetic  Emphasis 24 

Section  III.  —  Inflections 25 

Monotone 26 

Rising  and  Falling   Inflections 27 

Rules  for  the  Use  of  Inflections 28,  29,  30,  31,  32,  33 

The  Circumflex 34 

Section  IV.  —  Modulation 35 

Pitch  of  Voice 36 

Quantity 37 

Rules  for  Quantity 38 

Quality 39 

Rules  for  Quality 40 

Notation  in  Modulation 41 

Examples  for  Exercise  in  Modulation 41,  42,  43,  44 

Section  V.  —  The  Rhetorical  Pause 45,  46 


Vi  '  CONTENTS. 


PABT     SECOND. 

I.ESSON.  FAOB. 

1.  Achievements  and  Dignity  of  Labor Rev.  Newman  Hall,  47 

2.  Powers  of  the  Hand Dr.  George  Wilson,  50 

3.  There's  Work  Enough  to  do Anon.,  53 

4.  Fields  for  Labor Mrs.  Ellen  H.  Gates,  55 

5.  Where  there's  a  Will,  there's  a  Wat J.  G.  Saxe,  56 

6.  The  Offices  of  Memory May  Burns,  58 

7.  The  Memory  of  Joy Greenwood,  62 

8.  The  House  by  the  Rolling  River Linna  Schenk,  66 

9.  The  Light  at  Home 68 

10.  The  Soldier  Bird H.  H.  Brownell,    69 

11.  The   Battle-Field 73 

12.  Song  of  the  Cannon-Ball Anon.,     76 

13.  The  Children  of  the  Battle-Field James  G.  Clark,     78 

14.  The  Brave  at  Home Anon.,     80 

15.  The  Soldier's  Reprieve A^.  Y.  Observer,    81 

16.  The  Last  Ride Miss  Mulock,     86 

17.  Passing  to  the  Supernal Sat.  Eve.  Post,     90 

18.  Sunshine  and  Showers 91 

19.  Education,  our  own  Work John  Todd,    94 

20.  Self-Culturb Channing,     97 

21.  The  Skater  and  the  Wolves Whitehead,  100 

22.  Purity  of  Character Henry  Ward  Beecher,  104 

23.  The  Three  Sisters.  — An  Allegory 105 

24.  Deserve  It Anon.,  107 

25.  The  Bridal  Wine-Cup 110 

jr  26.  Desolating  Effects  of  Intemperance W.  Irving,  114 

27.  Eulogy  on  Cold  Water Paul  Denton,  115 

28.  Profaneness E.  H.  Chapin,  117 

29.  Voices  of  God Lon.  Brit.  Magazine,  118 

30.  Better  than  Gold Anon.,  120 

31.  The  Angel  of  the  Leaves.  —  An  Allegory .  .Hannah  F.  Gould,  122 

32.  The  World  of  Chance John  Todd,  125 

33.  The  World  of  Chance  {continued) John  Todd,  128 

34.  No  God N.  K.  Richardson,  131 

35.  The  Presence  op  God Amelia  B.  Welby,  133 

36.  Integrity D.S.  Dickinson,  136 

37.  The  Visible  and  the  Invisible Ephraim  Peahody,  138 

38.  When  I  am  Old Caroline  A.  Briggs,  143 

39.  A  Retrospective  Review Thomas  Hood,  145 


CONTENTS.  vu 

XESSOjr.  PAGE, 

40.  Taking  a  Whale R.  Starbuck,  147 

41.  Leviathan,  or  the  Great  Whale.  .From  the  French  of  Michdet,  153 

42.  The  Game  of  Life J.  G.  Saxe,  156 

43.  Keep  in  Step Anon.,  159 

44.  Encouragements  in  the  Pursuit  of  Knowledge  .  JEJ.  Everett,  160 

45.  The  Capacity  of  an  Hour John  Foster,  165 

46.  Evening  Prayer Channing,  167 

47.  The  Time  for  Prayer Anon.,  169 

48.  One  by  One Adelaide  A:  Procter,  171 

49.  Inventive  Genius  and  Labor Elihu  Burritt,  172 

50.  The  Results  of  Work Dr.  J.  G.  Holland,.  175 

51.  Our  Deeds  Imperishable L.  II.  Grindon,  178 

-^52.  The  Uses  of  Life Harper's  Magazine,  180 

53.  Lofty  Aspirations Dem.  Review,  183 

54.  General  Washington's  Escape Anon.,  185 

55.  Exciting  Adventure  with  AN  Indian.  .Zj/acl-M;ooc?'s  ifcfcf^a«{ne,  190 

56.  Choice   Extracts  :  — 

I.  Decay  of  the  American  Ii^diass.  .Charles  Sprague,  200 
II.  Lament  of  an  Indian  Chief 200 

III.  Effects  of  our  Deeds 201 

IV.  Man's  Mortality S.  Wastell,  201 

V.  Saving  for  Old  Age 202 

VI.  Be  Firm ; Mrs.  S.  C.  Mayo,  203 

VII.  The  Young  Voyager.  . . , Rev.  Albert  Barnes,  204 

VIII.  Voyage  of  Life Henry  Ware,  Jun.,  205 

IX.  The   Beauties   of  NatuiiE Moodie,  205 

X.  Cheer  Up 206 

57.  Earnestness Ajion.,  207 

58.  Incentives  to  Culture R.  F.  Trowhridge,  213 

59.  "  And  Then  ?  " 215 

60.  What  is  Life  ? Charles  D.  Drake,  21 7 

61.  Pleasures  of  Knowledge Sydney  Smith,  220 

62.  Man  and  the  Industrial  Arts Dr.  George  Wilson,  225 

63.  The  Beautiful E.  H.  Burrington,  232 

64.  The  Bright  Flowers Anon.,  234 

65.  The  Summer  Rain Helen  Mitchell,  235 

66.  A  Noble   Revenge Thomas  De  Quincey,  236 

67.  Story  of  the  Siege  of  Calais Henry  Brooke,  239 

68.  The  True  Legion  of  Honor Anon.,  244 

69.  Conscience James  Linen,  246 

70.  Moral  and  Religious  Culture Sat.  Eve.  Post,  249 

71.  Desire  and  Means  of  Happiness Horace  Mann,  254 


viil  CONTENTS. 

LESSON.  PAOB. 

72.  The  Invention  of  Printing.  —  A  Dialogue Osborne,  258 


73.  The  Three  Voices Anon.,  261 

74.  Action  of  Climate  upon  Man Prof.  Arnold  Guyot,  262 

75.  The  Wonders  of  Civilization Amott,  264 

76.  The  Love  of  Truth 265 

77.  Aspirations  of  Youth George  William  Curtis,  267 

78.  The  Grave  of  the  Year G.  A.  Gamage,  269 

79.  Another  Year 271 

80.  The  Telescope  and  the  Microscope Chalmers^  273 

81.  Immensity  of  the  Universe 0.  M.  Mitchel,  275 

82.  The  First  Predicter  of  an  Eclipse 0.  M.  Mitchel,  277 

83.  The  Song  of  Light W.  P.  Palmer,  281 

84.  Chant  and  Chorus  op  the  Planets Anna  Blackicell,  283 

85.  Insignificance  of  the  Earth Chalmers,  285 

86.  Honor  to  the  Projector  of  the  Atlantic  Cable.  4.  A. Low,  288 

87.  Recovery  of  the  Lost  Atlantic  Cable...  Cyn«  W.  Field,  291 

88.  How  Cyrus  laid  the  Cable J.  G.  Saxe,  295 

89.  The  Atlantic  Telegraph Rev.  George  Lansing  Taylor,  297 

90.  The   Electric  Telegraph Anon.,  299 

91.  Beatitudes Bible,  301 

92.  The  Pride  of  Ignorance S.  W.  Taylor,  304 

93.  Science  and  Art D.  Braivster,  308 

94.  Advance , D.  F.  McCarthy,  311 

95.  The  Polar  Star Westby  Gibson,  313 

96.  Mountains E.  M.  Morse,  315 

97.  The  Alps Willis  Gaylord  Clark,  318 

98.  Desire  to  be  remembered 319 

99.  The  Desire  of  Reputation Rev.  Albert  Barnes,  321 

100.  Vanity  of  Earthly  Fame Henry  Kirke  White,  326 

101.  "  This,  too,  must  pass  away" Mrs.  'F.  C.  Howarth,  328 

102.  God,  the  True  Object  of  Confidence   Greenwood,  329 

103.  Inspiration  of  Living  Genius Mrs.  E.  Oakes  Smith,  333 

104.  Genius  and  Originality Rev.  Dr.  G.  W.  Eaton,  336 

105.  Hurrying  On 338 

106.  The  People's  Advent Gerald  Massey,  339 

107.  Discovery  op  Manhattan ^.Mary  L.  Booth,  341 

108.  Choice   Extracts  :  — 

I.  Personal  Religion WdMer,  345 

n.  The  Beam  of  Devotion Gex>rge  P.  Morris,  347 

III.  Progress 347 

IV.  Love  Due  to  the  Creator G.  Griffin,  348 

V.  Influence  of  Gold Addison,  348 


CONTENTS.  Ix 

LESSON-.  PAGE, 

108.  Choice  Extracts  {continued) :  — 

VI.  Ingratitude Shakspeare,  349 

VII.  The   Bible Wayland,  349 

VIII.  -The  Moments J.  L.  Eggleston,  350 

IX.  The  War-Horse Book  of  Job,  351 

X.  Seclusion Beattie,  351 

XI.  The  Power  of  Little  Things Smiles,  352 

f^SirlMJ^UlE^CB Mrs.  S.  T.  Bolton,  353 

109.  The  Sea Ftvm  the  French  ofMchelet,  353 

110.  A  Wild  Night  at  Sea Charles  Dickens,  357 

111.  The  Sailor's  Early  Home Rev.  S.  D.  Phelps,  359 

112.  The  Fireman R.  T.  Conrad,  361 

113.  Benefits  of  Agriculture D.  S.  Dickinson,  363 

114.  The  Work  of  Eloquence Orville  Dewey,  366 

115.  The  Voice  and  the  Pen D.  F.  McCarthy,  368 

116.  The  Burial  of  Moses Anon.,  370 

117.  Mount  Tabor J.  T.  Headley,  372 

118.  Mount  Tabor  [continued ) J.  T.  Headley,  S11 

119.  Nathan  Hale Francis  M,  Finch,  379 

120.  Loss  of  the  Union  Irreparable Webster,  381 

121.  Stars  in  my  Country's  Sky Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigoumey,  384 

122.  God  bless  our  Stars B.  F.   Taylor,  386 

123.  Washington's  Journey  to  his  Inauguration...  W.  Irving,  388 

124.  Lincoln's  Journey  to  his  Inauguration.  .  .L.  H.  Whitney,  394 

125.  Day-Star  of  Liberty M.  A.  Moses,  396 

126.  "  On  to  Freedom  " A.  J.  H.  Duganne,  398 

127.  Address  to  the  Returned  Soldiers,  .fiey.  J.  M.  Manning,  401 

128.  The  Honored  Dead.  .  ^* Henry  Ward  Beecher,  403 

129.  The  Soldier's  Dirge Col.  O'Hara,  405 

130.  The  Widowed    Sword Anon.,  407 

131.  "  Good-By,  Old  Arm,  Good-By  ! " George  Cooper,  408 

132.  The  Teacher  the  Hope  of  A^ierica Samuel  Fells,  410 

133.  True   Glory  of  a  Nation Bishop  Whipple,  412 

134.  The  Battle  of  Life Anne  C.  Lynch,  414 

135.  The  Historian's  Reflections Blake,  417 

136.  True  Reformers Horace  Greeley,  420 

137.  Unjust  National  Acquisitions Thomas  Corwin,  422 

138.  Vanity  of  Earthly  Treasures Anon.,  426 

139.  Choice  Extracts:  — 

I.  The  Widow's  Two  Mites Webster,  428 

II.  The   Honey-Bee 429 

>-^I.  Virtue Colton,  430 


X  CONTENTS. 

LESSOK.  PAGE. 

139.  Choice  Extracts  {continued)  :  — 

IV.  Happiness Pope,  430 

V.  Advance  op  Science 431 

VI.  The  Struggle  of  Life Beattie,  432 

yjlr  Antiquity Colton,  432 

^Vlll.  Beauty Shakspeare,  433 

IX.  Cunning   and  Discretion Addison,  433 

X.  Procrastination Persius,  434 

140.  All  Nature  speaks  op  a  Spirit-World Anon.,  434 

141.  "How  Manifold   are  Thy  Works!" Miss  A.Arnold,  436 

142.  Times  and  Seasons L.  H.  Grindon,  437 

143.  Earth,  Air,  and  Sea Maury,  440 

144.  The  Cloud Shelley,  443 

145.  Eulogy  on  Daniel  Webster Lewis  Gaylord    Clark,  446 

146.  Scenery  of  Palestine Itev.  J.  P.  Newman,  452 

147.  Birth-Day  Reflections George  D.  Prentice,  456 

148.  Paul  at  Athens John  Angell  James,  459 

149.  Paul  at  Athens  {continued) John  Angell  James,  460 

150.  Truth  and  Freedom William  D.  Gallagher,  464 

151.  Not  Dead,  but  Sleeping H.  A.  Gere,  465 

152.  The  Sphinx  and  the  Great  Pyramid Rev.  S.  I.  Prime,  467 

153.  Antiquity  of  Egypt Mrs.  E.  Oakes  Smith,  471 

154.  Choice  Extracts:  — 

I.  Bugle    Song '. Tennyson,  474 

II.  The  Age  of  Progress Charles  Sumner,  475 

III.  Clear  the   Way 475 

IV.  Our  Sages  and  Heroes Charles  Sprague,  476 

V.  The   American    Union Webster,  477 

VI.  Expulsion   from  Paradise Milton,  477 

VII.  Washington's  Monument R.  C.  Winthrop,  478 

VIII.  The   Lord   our  Provider Wordsworth,  479 

IX.  Moral  and  Republican  Principles.  .Edward Everett,  479 


ALPHABETICAL  LIST  OF  AUTHORS. 


PAGE. 

Addison 1 348,433 

Arnold,  Miss  A 436 

Arnott 204 

Barnes,  Albert 204,  321 

Beattie 351,432 

Beecher,  Hknry  Ward    .  .  104,  403 

Bible 301 

Blackwell,  Anna 283 

Blake 417 

Bolton,  Mrs.  S.  T 353 

Book  of  Job 351 

Booth,  Mary  L 341 

Brewster,  D 308 

Briggs,  Caroline  A 143 

Brooke,  Henry 239 

Brownell,  H.H 69 

Burns,  Islay 58 

Burrington,  E.  H 232 

BURiilTT,  Elihu 172 

Chalmers 273,  285 

Channing 97,  167 

Chapin,  E.  H 117 

Clark,  James  G 78 

Clark,  Lewis    Gaylord  ....   446 
Clark,  Willis   Gaylord  ....  318 

COLTON 430,432 

Conrad,  R.  T 361 

Cooper,  George 408 

Cor  win,  Thomas 422 

Curtis,  George  William    .  .  .   267 


PAGE. 

Denton,  Paul 115 

Be  Quincey,  Thomas 236 

Dewey,  Orville 305 

Dickens,  Charles 357 

Dickinson,  D.  S 136,  363 

Drake,  Charles  D 217 

DUGANNE,  a.  J.  H 398 

Eaton,  Rev.  Dr.  G.  W.  .  .  .  o  .  336 

Eells,  Samuel ,  .  ,  410 

Eggleston,  J.  L 350 

Everett,  Edward 160,479 

Field,  Cyrus  W .  291 

Finch,  Francis  M ,379 

Foster,  John 165 

Gallagher,  William  D 464 

Gamage,  G.  a 269 

Gere,  H.  A 465 

Gibson,  Westby 313 

Gould,  Hannah  F 122 

Greeley,  Horace 420 

Greenwood 62,  .329 

Griffin,  G 348 

Grindon,  L.  H 178,  437 

GuYOT,  Prof.  Arnold 262 

Hall,  Rev.  Newman 47 

Headley,  J.  T 372,  377 

Holland,  Dr.  J.  G 175 

Hood,  Thomas 145 

xi 


Xll 


AI^PHABETICAL  LIST  OF  AUTHORS. 


PAOK. 

HoWARTH,  Mrs.  E.  C 328 

IRVINQ,  W 114,  388 

James,  John  Angell 459 

Linen,  James 246 

Low,  A.  A 288 

Lynch,  Anne  C 414 

Magazine,  Blackwood's  ....   190 

Magazine,  Harper's 180 

3IAGAZINE,  London  British  .  .   118 

Mann,  Horace 254 

Manning,  Rev.  J.  M 401 

Massey,  Gerald 339 

Maury 440 

Mayo,  Mrs.  S.  C 203 

M'Carthy,  D.  F 311,368 

Michelet,  French  of    .  .  .  153,  353 

Milton 477 

MiTCHEL,  O.  M 275,  277 

Mitchell,  Helen  ........  235 

MOODIE 205 

Morris,  George  P 347 

Morse,  E.  M 315 

Moses,  M.  A. .  • 396 

Mulock,  Miss 86 

Newman,  Rev.  J.  P 452 

Observer,  N.  Y 81 

O'Hara,  Col 405 

Osborne 258 

Palmer,  William  Pitt  .....  281 

Peabody,  Ephraim 138 

Persius 434 

Phelps,  Rev.  S.  D 359 

PoPK 430 


PAGB, 

Post,  Saturday  Evening   .    90,  249 

Prentice,  George  D 456 

Prime,  Rev.  S.  1 467 

Procter,  Adelaide  A 171 

Review,  Democratic 183 

Richardson,  N.  K 131 

SAXE,  J.  G 66,  156,  295 

Schenk,  Linna 06 

Shakspeare 349,  433 

Shelley 443 

SiGOURNEY,  Mrs.  L.  H 384 

Smiles 352 

Smith,  Mrs.  E.  Oakes    .  .  .  333,  471 

Smith,  Sydney 220 

Spraguk,  Charles 200,  476 

Starbuck,  R 147 

Sumner,  Charles 475 

Taylor,  B.  F .386 

Taylor,  Rev.  Geo.  Lansing  .  .  297 

Taylor,  S.  W 304 

Tennyson 474 

Todd,  John 94,  125,  128 

Trowbridge,  R.  F 213 

Ware,  Henry,  Jun 205 

Wastell,  S 201 

Wayland 349 

Webster     345,381,428,477 

Welby,  Amelia  B 133 

Whipple,  Bishop 412 

White,  Henry  Kirke 326 

Whitehead 100 

Whitney,  L.  H 394 

Wilson,  Dr.  George  ....    50,  225 

WiNTHROP,  R.  C 478 

Wordsworth 479 


SANDEES' 

UNION    EEADER 

NUMBER     FIVE. 


PAR.T    FIRST. 

ELOCUTION.  "        .  " 

Elocution  is  the  art  of  delivering  written  or  extempo- 
raneous composition  with  force,  propriety,  and  ease. 

It  deals,  therefore,  with  words,  not  only  as  individuals,  but  as 
members  of  a  sentence,  and  parts  of  a  connected  discourse : 
including  every  thing  necessary  to  the  just  expression  of  the 
sense.  Accordingly,  it  demands,  in  a  special  manner,  attentioik 
to  the  following  particulars;  viz.,  Articulation,  Accent, 
Emphasis,  Inflection,  Modulation,. and  Pauses. 


SECTION  I. 

articulation. 


Articulation  is  the  art  of  uttering  distinctly  and 
justly  the  letters  and  syllables  constituting  a  word. 

It  deals,  therefore,  with  the  elements  of  words,  just  as  elocu- 
tion deals  with  the  elements  of  sentences  :  the  one  securing  tho 
true  enunciation  of  each  letter,  or  combination  of  letters,  tho 
other  giving  to  each  word,  or  combination  of  words,  such  a 
delivery  as  best  expresses  the  meaning  of  the  author.  It  is  the 
basis  of  all  good  reading,  and  should  be  carefully  practiced  by 
the  learner. 

{13J 


14 


SANDERS'   TJKION   SERIES. 


ELEMENTARY  SOUNDS  OP  THE  LETTERS. 


TOWEL   SOtlNDS. 


TONICS. 

Element 

Powtr. 

1—1 A 

as  in 

-4pe. 

2.— ^A 

a 

^rm. 

^.— «A 

si    ■ 

*      Jill. 

4.-^*A 

IC 

^t. 

■.^.-^A 

i: 

Care. 

6.— «A 

u 

^sk. 

7.— »E 

« 

Eyq. 

8.— ^E 

u 

End. 

9.— »I 

11 

Ice. 

10.— ^I 

11 

It. 

11.— ^0 

« 

Old. 

12.-20 

« 

Do. 

13.— »0 

u 

Ox. 

14.— lU 

11 

Use. 

15.— ^U 

u 

U^. 

16.— 8U 

u 

Full 

17.— 01 

(( 

Oil 

18.— OU 

(( 

Out. 

CONSONANT    SOUNDS. 
SUB-TONICS. 

19.— B  as  in  Bsit. 

20.— D  "  i>un. 


SDB-TONICS. 

Element. 

Power. 

21.— G* 

as  in 

Gun. 

22.— J 

i( 

Jet. 

23.— L 

<( 

Let. 

24.— M 

it 

Man. 

25.— N 

u 

Mt. 

26.— R 

It 

Run. 

27.— V 

u 

Fent. 

28.— W 

It 

Fent. 

29.— Y 

it 

res. 

30.— ^Z 

ft 

^eal. 

31.— ^Z 

It 

A^nre. 

32.— Na 

tt 

Sin^. 

33.— TH 

It 

Thy. 

A-TONICS. 

34.— F 

as  iu 

Fit. 

35.— H 

a 

Bait. 

36.— K 

it 

Kid. 

37.— P 

it 

Pit. 

38.— S 

tt 

Sin. 

39.— T 

tt 

Toip, 

40.— CH 

It 

Chat, 

41.— SH 

tt 

Shun. 

42.— TH 

It 

Thin. 

43.— WHf 

tt 

When. 

*  Soft  G  is  equivalent  to  J ;  Soft  C  to  S,  and  hard  C  and  Q  to  K.  X 
is  equivalent  to  K  and  S,  as  in  box,  or  to  G  and  Z,  as  in  exalt. 

f  WH  is  pronounced  as  if  the  H  preceded  W,  otherwise  it  would  be 
pronounced  W-hen.  R  should  be  slightly  trilled  before  a  vowel.  For 
further  instructions,  see  Sanders  and  Merrill's  Elementary  and  Elocu- 
tionary Chart. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEK. 


15 


SUBSTITUTES  FOR  THE  VOWEL  ELEMENTS. 


■  at  as  in  sail. 

e  as  in  JS'nglish. 

au 

'«     gauge. 

ee     " 

been. 

For  Long  A. 

ay 
ea 

*♦     lay. 
•♦     great. 

For  Short  L    - 

ie     " 
0       " 

Sieve. 
women. 

ei 

"     detgn. 

u      " 

busy. 

ey 

"     they. 

ui     *' 

bi/ild. 

'  au 

**     dawnt. 

y             U 

symbol. 

For  Flat  A. 

ea 

"     heart. 

'  au    " 

hautboy. 

^ua 

•'     guard. 

eau  «« 
eo     '« 

beai^. 
yeoman. 

'  au 
aw 

'«     pause. 
"     \aw. 

For  Long  0.    - 

eu;    " 
oa    ♦* 

seu?. 
boat. 

For  Broad  A. 

eo 
oa 

'♦     George. 
"     groat. 

oe     " 
ou    ♦* 

hoe. 
soul. 

0 

"     horn. 

OVJ    '• 

^ow. 

ou 

"     sought. 

o 

For  Long 

^  oe     " 

shoe. 

For  Short  A.     ■ 

fat 
ua 

**     plazd. 
'*     guaranty. 

Slender  0.   \  ou    " 

soup. 

a       " 

was. 

'  ai 

**     hafr. 

For  Short  0.    ■ 

ou    " 

hough. 

For  Intermedi- 

ea 

"     bear. 

^ow    «' 

knoii;ledga. 

ate  A. 

e 

•'     where. 

ei 

«♦     their. 

'eau  " 
eu     ♦' 

beauty 
feud. 

'  ea 

"     weak. 

ew    " 

dcu;. 

For  Long  E. 

ei 
eo 
ey 

For  Long  U.    ■ 

ieu    " 

iCU7    " 

ou     '• 

adi'ei^. 

\iew. 

your. 

ie 

"     brief. 

ue     " 
ui     " 

cue. 

i 

"     pzque. 

suit. 

'a 

"     any. 

fe       - 

her. 

ai 

"     sazd. 

i       " 

Sir. 

ay 

'«     says. 

For  Short  U.  - 

oe     '♦ 

does. 

ea 

'«     dead. 

0        " 

love. 

For  Short  E.      - 

ei 

"     heifer. 

ou     " 

young. 

eo 

♦*     leopard. 

For  Short         j 
Slender  U.  ' 

0        " 

wolf. 

ie 

«♦     friend. 

ou     *' 

would. 

ue 

♦*     guess. 

{at 

♦*     bury. 
♦*     aisle. 

For  the  Diph- ) 
thong  01.     J 

.oy    " 

joy. 

ei 

"     sleight. 

For  the  Diph-  1 
thong  OU.    J 

ey 

"     eye. 

►  ow    *♦ 

now. 

For  Long  I. 

ie 
oi 

«'     die. 
*'     choi'r. 

There  is  no 

pure  T 

riphthongal 

ui 

"     guide. 

sound   in  the 

language.     Buoy  ia 

uy 

"     buy. 

equivalent    to 

bwoy. 

U  being   a 

Vy 

-     try. 

consonant, 

16 


SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 


SUBSTITUTES  FOR  THE  CONSONANT  ELEMENTS. 


8  in  laxxgh. 

c  as 

in 

suffice. 

sphere. 

»Z. 

■  s 

wa«. 

J.    ff 

X 

Xerxes. 

ffQm. 

'  s 

treasure. 

'  c 

can. 

=Z. 

z 

azure. 

TT        ^^ 

chord. 

si 

fu«/on. 

^■\9h 

houffh. 

si 

glazeer. 

u 

g-uit. 

NG. 

n 

conch. 

S.     c 

cent. 

[ce 

ocean. 

T  l^ 

facet/. 

ci 

soczal. 

phthisic. 

ch 

chaise. 

SH. 

\  si 

pension. 

HU 

0/. 

a 

sure. 

Stephen. 

ss 

issue. 

Y.    t 

valmnt. 

[ti 

notion. 

CH. 

ti 

fus^zan. 

B,  D,  G,  H,  L,  M,  N,  P,  and  R,  have  no  substitutes. 


The  most  common  faults  in  Articulation  are 
I.    The  suppression  of  a  sellable  ;  as 


cab'n 

for 

cab-m. 

mem'ry 

for 

mem-o-ry. 

cap'n 

(( 

cap-toin. 

jub'lee 

ju-bi-lee. 

barr'l 

a 

bar-rel. 

trav'ler 

trav-el-er. 

ev'ry 

a 

ev-e-ry. 

fani'ly 

fam-i-ly. 

hist'ry 

a 

his-to-ry. 

vent' late 

ven-t«^-late. 

reg'lar 

u 

reg-w-lar. 

des'late 

des-o-late. 

sev'ral 

ii 

sev-cr-al. 

prob'ble 

prob-d-ble. 

rhet'ric 

(( 

rhet-o-ric. 

par-tic'lar 

par-tic-t^-lar. 

II.    The 

omission  of  any  s 

ound  properly  belonging  to  a 

word;  as, 

read-in 

for 

read-inr/. 

pr'-tect 

for 

pro-tect. 

swif-ly 

u 

swifMy. 

b'-low 

be-low. 

com-mans 

(( 

com-manc?s. 

p'r-vade 

per-vade. 

wam-er 

u 

warm-er. 

srink-in 

s/irink-in^. 

um-ble 

u 

Aum-ble, 

th'if-ty 

thrif-ty. 

ap-py 

(( 

Aap-py. 

as-ter-is 

as-ter-is&. 

con-sis 

(( 

con-sis^s. 

gov-er-ment 

gov-ern-ment. 

fa-t'l 

tt 

fa-taL 

Feb-u-a-ry 

Fcb-ru-a-ry. 

UNION  FIFTH  EEADER. 


17 


III.   The  Buhstitution  of  one  sound  for  another ;  as 


wf-ford 

for 

af-ford. 

wil-ler 

wil-loi^. 

sock-it 

sock-et. 

fear-lwss 

fear-less. 

cul-ter 

cult-wre. 

prod-ux 

prod-uc/s. 

judg-mwnt 

judg-ment 

chU-drm 

chil-dren. 

mod-?st 

tip-prove 

icin-e-gar 

sep-e-rate 

tem-per-/t 

croe-er-dile 

tMb-ac-cwr 

com-prMm-ise 


for  mod-est. 
ap-prove. 
t?in-e-gar. 
sep-a-rate. 
tem-per-ate. 
croc-o-dile. 
to-bac-co. 
com-pro-mise 


IV.  Produce  the  sounds  denoted  bj  the  following  com- 
binations of  consonants : — 


Let  the  pupil  first  produce  the  sounds  of  the  letters,  and  then 
the  word  or  words  in  which  they  occur.  Be  careful  to  give  a 
clear  and  distinct  enunciation  to  every  letter. 

1.  Bd,  as  in  rob*d;  hdst,  jtrob'dst;  hi,  Z>/and,  a5fe ;  tZof,  hum- 

hVd;   hldst,  troubl'dst;   blst,  tronbrst;   biz,  crumbles;  br, 
ferand;  bz,  ribs. 

2.  Ch,  as  in  church  ;  cht,  fetch'd. 

S.  Dj\  as  in  edge;  djd,  hedg'd ;  dl,  hr'idle;  did,  riddl'd;  dht, 
hdiudVst;  dlz,  bundles;  dn^hard'n;  dr,dro\e;  dth, -width; 
dths,  hre-ddths;  dz,  odds. 

4.  Fl,  as  in^ame;  Jld,  riJVd ;  flst,  stifl'st;  Jlz,  rifles;  fr,from; 

fs,  qua^i-,  lau^As;  fst,  laugh' st,  quaff' st;  ft,  raft ;  fts,  wafts; 
ftsf,  graft' St. 

5.  Gd,  as  in  hegg'd ;  gdst,  hragg'dst;  gl,  glide;  gld,  struggrd ; 

gldst,  hsiggl'dst ;  gist,  sinxngl'st ;  glz,  mingles ;  gr,  grove ; 
gst,  hegfst ;  gz,  %s. 

G.  Kl,  as  in  unc^e,  ankle;  kid,  irickVd ;  kldst,  iruckV dst;  klst, 
chucA:/'s^;  klz,  yyrinkles ;  kn,  blacA;'?i;  kud,  reek'n'd; 
kndst,  reak'n'dst ;  knst,  blac7»:'ri's<;  knz,  reck' ns  ;  kr,  crank  j 
ks,  check's;  kt,  act. 

7.  Lh,  as  in  hulb ;  Ibd,  hulb'd;  lbs,  hulbs ;  Ich,  Mch ;  Ichf^ 
helch'd;  Id,  hold;  Idst,  fold'st ;  Idz,  holds;  If  self;  Ifs, 
gulfs;  IJ,  hulge;  Ik,  elk;  Iks,  silks;  Ikt,  milk'd;  Ikts, 
mulcts;  Im^  elm;    Imd,  whelmed;  Imz,  ^Ims ;  la,  fall'n; 


18  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

^,  help;  Ips,  scsilps;  Ipsf,  helpst;  h,  fa/se ;  1st,  cvdTst; 
It,  melt;  Ith,  health;  Iths,  stealths;  Its,  colts;  Iv,  delve 'j 
Ivd,  shelv'd;  Ivz,  elves;  Iz,  halls. 

8.  Md,  as  in  dioom^d;  mf,  triumph;  mp,  hemp;  mpt,  tempt; 

mptSy  attempts;  mst,  entomb' st;  mz,  tombs. 

9.  Nch,  as  in  hench;    ncht,  -pinch' d;    nd,  and;    ndst,  end'st; 

ndz,  ends;  ng,  sun//;  ngd,  hang'd;  ngth,  length;  ngz, 
songs;  tiJ,  range;  njd,rang'd;  nk,ink;  nks,  ranks;  nkst, 
thank' st;  nst,  winc'd;  nt,  sent;  nts,  rents;  ntst,  went'st; 
nz,  runs. 

10.  PI,  as  in  j9?unie;  pld,  rippl'd;  plst,  ripp^s^;  plz,  apples; 
pr,  prince  j  ps,  sips;  pst,  rapp'st;  pt,  ripp'd. 

11.  Rb,  as   in  herb ;  rch,  search;  rcht,  church' d;  rbd,  orb'd; 

rbdst,harb'dst ;  rbst,  disturb' st ;  rbz,  orbs  ;  rd,hard  ;  rdst 
heard' St;  rdz, -words ;  rf,  turf;  rft,  scarf  d)  rg,  hurg ; 
rgz,  hurgs;  rj,  dirge;  rjd,  urg'd;  rk,  ark;  rks,  arks; 
rkst,  \fork'st;  rkt,  dirk'd ;  rktst,  emhark'dst;  rl,  girl; 
rid,  world;  rldst,  hurld'st ;  rlst,  whirl' st;  rlz,  hurls;  rm, 
arm;  rmd,  arm'd;  rmdst,  harm'dst;  rmst,  arm'st;  rmz, 
charms;  rn,  turn;  rnd,  turn'd;  rndst,  earn'dst;  rnst, 
Xearn'st;  rnz,  urjis ;  rp,  carp;  rps,  harps;  rpt,warp'd; 
rs,  verse;  rsh,  harsh;  rst,  firs/;  rsis,  bu?*s/s;  rt,  dart;  rth, 
earth;  rths,  hirths;  rts,  marts;  rtst,  dart'st;  rv,  curve; 
rvd,  nerv'd;  rvdst,  curv'dst;  rvst,  swerv'st;  rvz,  nerves; 
rz,  errs. 

12.  /S'/i,  as  in  sAip ;  sht,hush'd;  sic,  scan,  skip,  sks,  tusks;  sksf, 
frisk' st;  skt,  risk'd;  si,  slow;  sld,  nestVd;  slz,  wrestles; 
sm,  swiile ;  sn,  snag;  sp,  sport;  sps,  lisps;  spt,  clasp'd;  st, 
stag;  str,  strike;  sts,  rests;  sw,  swing. 

13.  Th,  as  in  thine,  thin;  thd,  hreath'd;  thr,  three;  thst, 
hreath'st;  thw,  tJiwac\.;  thz,  writhes  ;  tl,  title;  tld,  aettl'd; 
tldst,  settl'dst ;  tlst,  settl'st;  tlz,  nettles;  tr,  /runkj  te,  fi/s; 
tw,  twirl. 

14.  Vd,  as  in  curv'd;  vdst,  liv' dst;  vl,  driv'l ;  vld,  grov'l'd; 
vldst,  grov'V dst;  vlst,  driv' I' st;  vn^  driv'n;  vst,  liv'st; 
vz,  lives. 

15.  Wh,  as  in  t^jAen,  w^ere. 

16.  Zd,  as  in  mus'd;  zl,  dazzle ;  zld,  muzzl'd;  zldst,  dazzl'dst; 
zlst,  dazzVst;  zlz,  muzzles;  zm,  spasm;  zmz,  chasms;  zn^ 
lis'n;  znd,  reas'n'd;  znz,  pris'7}z;  zndst,  impris'n'dst. 


tJNIOK  FIFTH  READER. 


19 


Y.  Avoid  blending  the  termination  of  one  word  with 
the  beginning  of  another,  or  suppressing  the  final  letter 
or  letters  of  one  word,  when  the  next  word  commences 
with  a  similar  sound. 


His  small  eyes 

She  keeps  pies 

His  hour  is  up 

Dry  the  widow's  tears 

Your  eyes  and  ears 

He  had  two  small  eggs 

Bring  some  ice  cream 

Let  all  men  praise  Him 

He  was  killed  in  war 

Water,  air,  and  earth 

Come  and  see  me  once  more 


EXAMPLES. 

instead  of  His  small  lies. 
She  keeps  spies. 
His  sour  is  sup. 
Dry  the  widow  steers. 
Your  rise  sand  dears. 
He  had  two  small  legs. 
Bring  some  mice  scream. 
Let  tall  men  pray  sim. 
He  was  skilled  in  war. 
AVater  rare  rand  dearth. 
Come  mand  see  me  one  smore. 


Note. — By  an  indistinct  Articulation  the  sense  of  a  passage 
is  often  liable  to  be  perverted. 


EXAMPLES. 

1.  Will  he  attempt  to  conceal  hi*  acts  ? 
Will  he  attempt  to  conceal  his  sacks  ? 

2.  The  man  harf  oars  to  row  her  over. 
The  man  hao?  doors  to  row  her  rover. 

8.  Can  there  be  aw  aim  more  lofty  ? 
Can  there  be  a  name  more  lofty  ? 

4.  The  judges  ought  to  arrest  the  culprits. 
The  judges  sought  to  arrest  the  culprits. 

6.  His  «re  burned  when  she  told  him  her  age. 
His  sire  burned  when  she  told  him  her  rage, 

6.  He  was  awed  at  the  works  of  labor  and  art. 
He  was  sawed  at  the  works  of  labor  an  c/art. 

7.  He  was  drained  in  the  religion  of  his  fathers. 
He  was  sprained  in  the  religion  of  Lis  fathers. 


20  SANDEES'  UNION  SEKIES. 


MISCELLANEOUS    EXAMPLES. 

1.  J5ravely  o'er  the  boisterows  billows, 
His  ffSilla,nt  bark  wa,s  borne. 

2.  Can  craven  cow&rds  expect  to  conquer  the  conniry  ? 

8.   CRck,  click,  goes  the  clock  ;  clack,  clack,  ffoes  the  mill. 
4.  Did  you  desire  to  hear  his  dark  and  doleful  dreams  ? 

6.  "  Firm-paced  and  slow,  a  horrid  front  they  form. 

Still  as  the  breeze  ;  but  dreadful  as  the  storm.'* 

6.  27ie  flaming  fire  flashed  fearfully  in  his  face. 

7.  The  glassy  glaciers  gleamed  in  glowing  light. 

8.  jETow  Aigh  his  honors  heaved  his  Aaugh^y  head! 

9..  jBTe  drew  long,  legible  lines  along  the  Zpve/y  landscape. 

10.  Masses  of  immense  magnitude  move  majestically  through  the  vast 
empire  of  the  solar  system. 

11.  Round  the  rough  and  rugged  rocks  the  ragged  rascal  ran. 

12.  The  stripling  stranger  strayed  straight  toward  the  struggling 
etream. 

13.  She  uttered  a  sharp,  shrill  shriek,  and  then  shrunk  from  the  shriveled 
form  that  slumbered  in  the  shroud. 

14.  For  fear  of  o/ending  the  frightful  fugitive,  the  vile  vagsJ)ond 
ventured  to  vilify  the  venerable  veteran. 

15.  Amidst  the  mists,  tcith  angry  boasts. 
He  thrusts  his  fists  against  the  posts^ 
And  still  insists  he  sees  the  ghosts. 

16.  Peter  Prangle,  the  prickly  prangly  pear  picker,  picked  three 
pecks  of  prickly  prangly  pears,  from  the  prangly  pear  trees,  on  the 
pleasant  prairies. 

17.  Theophilus  Thistle,  the  successful  thistle  sifter,  in  sifting  a  sieve 
full  of  unsifted  thistles,  thrust  three  thousand  thistles  through  the  thick 
of  his  thumb ;  now,  if  Theophilus  Thistle,  the  successful  thistle  sifter, 
in  sifting  a  sieve  full  of  unsifted  thistles,  thrust  three  thousand  thistles 
through  the  thick  of  his  thumb,  see  that  thou,  in  sifting  a  sieve  full 
of  unsifted  thistles,  thrust  not  three  thousand  thistles  through  the  thick 
of  thy  thumb.     Success  to  the  successful  thistle  sifter. 

18.  We  travel  sea  and  soil;  we  pry,  we  prowl; 
We  progress,  and  we  prog  from  pole  to  pole. 


UNION  FIFTH  BEADER.  21 

SECTION    11. 
ACCENT   AND    EMPHASIS. 

Accent  and  Emphasis  both  indicate  some  special  stress 
of  voice. 

Accent  is  that  stress  of  voice  by  which  one  syllable  of  a  word 
i.  made  more  prominent  than  others ;  Emphasis  is  that  stress 
of  voice  by  which  one  or  more  words  of  a  sentence  are  distin- 
guished above  the  rest. 

accent. 

The  accented  syllable  is  sometimes  designated  thus: 
(  / ) ;  as,  com-mand'-ment. 

Note  I. — Words  of  more  than  two  syllables  generally  have 
two  or  more  of  them  accented. 

The  more  forcible  stress  of  voice  is  called  the  Primary 
Accent;  and  the  less  forcible,  the  Secondary  Accent. 

EXAMPLES    OF   PRIMARY   AND    SECONDARY   ACCENT. 

In  the  following  examples  the  Primary  Accent  is  designated 
by  double  accentual  marks,  thus  : 

Ed^^-u-cate\  ed' -u-ca^ ^ -tion,  muV^-ti-ply^,  muV-ti-pli-ca^^-tion,  sat^^-is~ 
fy^^  sat^-is-fac^^-tion,  com^-pre-hend'^,  com' -pre-hen" -sion,  rec'-om-mend'\^ 
rec' -om-mend-a' ' -tioriy  mo^'-ment-a'-ry,  com-mu' ' -ni-cate' ,  com'-pli-ment'^- 
al,  in-dem'-ni-fi-ca''-tion,  ex'-tem-po-ra''-ne-ous,  coun'-ter-rev'-o-WHiou- 
a-ry. 

Note  II. — The  change  of  accent  on  the  same  word  often 
changes  its  meaning. 

EXAMPLES. 

col^-league,  a  partner,  col-league'',  to  unite  with. 

con'^-duct,  behavior.  con-duct'',  to  lead. 

des'-cant,  a  song  or  tune.  des-canf,  to  comment. 

ob'-ject,  ultimate  purpose.  ob-ject',  to  oppose. 

in''-ter-dict,  a  prohibition.  in-ter-dict'',  to  forbid. 

o''-ver-throw,  ruin;  defeat.  o-ver-tbrow'',  to  throw  down. 


22  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

Note  III. — Emphatic  words  are  often  printed  in  Italics, 
When,  however,  different  degrees  of  emphasis  are  to  be  denoted, 
the  higher  degrees  are  designated  by  the  use  of  Capitals, 
LARGER  or  smaller,  according  to  the  degree  of  intensity. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Our  motto  shall  be,  our  country,  our  whole  country,  and 
NOTHING  BUT  OUR  COUNTRY. 

2.  Thou  Child  of  Joy !  Shout  round  me :  let  me  hear  thy  shouts, 
thou  happy  Shepherd  Boy  ! 

S.  Freedom  calls  you !  quick,  be  ready, 

Think  of  what  your  sires  have  done ; 

Onward,  onward  !  strong  and  steady, 
Drive  the  tyrant  to  his  den ; 

On,  and  let  the  watchword  be, 

Country,  home,  and  LIBERTY. 

Note  IV. — Emphasis,  as  before  intimated,  varies  in  degrees 
of  intensity, 

EXAMPLES    OF    INTENSIVE    EMPHASIS. 

1.  He  shook  the  fragment  of  his  blade, 

And  shouted:   ''VICTORY!" 

Charge,  Chester,  charge  !     On,  Stanley,  on  !" 

2.  A  month  !  0,  for  a  single  week  !  I  ask  not  for  years',  though  an 
AGE  were  too  little  for  the  much  I  have  to  do. 

8.      Now  for  the  fight  !  now  for  the  cannon  peal  ! 

ONWARD!  through  blood,  and  toil,  and  cloud,  txndjire! 
Glorious — the  shout,  the  shock,  the  crash  of  steel, 
The  volley's  roll,  the  rocket's  blazing  spire! 

4.  Hear,  0  Heavens  !  and  give  ear,  0  Earth  ! 

Note  Y. — Emphasis  sometimes  changes  the  seat  of  accent 
from  its  ordinary  position. 

EXAMPLES. 

There  is  a  difference  between  jt?05''sibility  and  /)ro5''ability. 
And  behold,  the  angels  of  God  as''cending  and  c?fi''scending  on  it. 
For  this  corruptible  must  put  on  en'oorruption,  and  this  mortal  must 
put  on  {m'mortality. 

Does  Ilia  conduct  deserve  ap''probation,  or  re^-'robatioa  ? 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  23 

Note  YI. — There  are  two  kinds  of  Emphasis: — Absolute 
and  Antithetic.  Absolute  Emphasis  is  used  to  designate  tho 
important  words  of  a  sentence,  without  any  direct  reference  to 
other  words. 

EXAMPLES    OF    ABSOLUTE    EMPHASIS. 

1.  Oh,  speak  to  passion's  raging  tide, 

Speak  and  sai/ :  ''peace,  be  still!" 

2.  The  Union,  it  MUST  and  SHALL  BE  PRESERVED ! 

8.       .  Hush  !  breathe  it  not  aloud, 

The  wild  winds  must  not  hear  it  I      Yet,  again, 
I  tell  thee — we  are  free  !  knowles. 

4.  When  my  country  shall  take  her  place  among  the  nations  of  the 
^arth,  then  and  not  TILL  then,  let  my  epitaph  be  written,     emmett. 

6.  If  you  are  men,  follow  me  !  Strike  down  yon  guard,  and  gain  the 
mountain  passes. 

6.  Oh  !  shame  on  us,  countrymen,  shame  on  us  all, 

If  we  cringe  to  so  dastard  a  race. 

7.  This  doctrine  never  was  received ;  it  never  can,  by  any  POSSIBIL- 
ITY, BE  received  ;  and,  if  admitted  at  all,  it  must  be  by  THE  TOTAL 
SUBVERSION  OF  LIBERTY! 

8.  Are  you  Christians,  and,  by  upholding  duelists,  will  you  deluge  the 
land  with  blood,  and  fill  it  with  widows  and  orphans  ?  beecher. 

9.  Liberty  and  union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable. 

WEBSTER. 

10.  Treason!  cried  the  speaker;  treason,  treason,  TREASON,  re- 
echoed from  every  part  of  the  house. 

11.  The  war  is  inevitable, — and  let  it  come!  I  repeat  it,  Sir, — LET 
[T  COME  !  PATRICK  henry. 

12.  Be  we  men. 
And  suffer  such  dishonor  ?     Men,  and  wash  not 

The  slain  away  in  blood  ?  miss  mitford. 

13.  0  SACRED  forms  !  how  proud  you  look  ! 
How  high  you  lift  your  heads  into  the  sky ! 

How  huge  you  are  !   how  mighty  and  how  free!     knowles. 

14.  I  shall  know  but  one  country.  The  endd  /  aim  at,  shall  be  "  My 
Country's,  my  God's,  and  Truth's."  Webster. 


24  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

Note  YII. — Antithetic  Emphasis  is  that  which  is  founded 
on  the  contrast  of  one  word  or  clause  with  another. 

EXAMPLES    OF   ANTITHETIC    EMPHASIS. 

1.  The  faults  of  others  should  always  remind  us  of  our  own. 

2.  He  desired  to  protect  his  friend,  not  to  injure  him 

8.  But  yesterday,  the  word  of  Caesar  might 

Have  stood  against  the  world;  now  lies  he  there, 

And  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence.  shakspeakh. 

4.  A  good  name  is  rather  to  be  chosen  than  great  riches.  bible. 

5.  We  can  do  nothing  against  the  truth  ;  but  for  the  truth.      bible. 

G.   He  that  is  slow  to  anger,  is  better  than  the  mighty ;  and  he  that 
Tuleth  his  spirit,  than  he  that  taketh  a  city.  bible. 

Note  YIIT. — The  following  examples  contain  two  or  more 
sets  of  Antitheses. 

1.  Just  men  are  oxAy  free,  the  rest  are  slaves. 

2.  Beauty  is  like  the  flower  of  spring;  virtue  is  like  the  stars  of  heaven. 

3.  Truth  crushed  to  earth  shall  rise  again. 

The  eternal  years  of  God  are  hers ; 
But  error,  wounded,  writhes  in  pain, 

And  dies  amid  her  worshipers.  butant. 

4.  A  false  balance  is  abomination  to  the  Lord;  but  a  fust  weight  is  his 
delight.  BIBLE. 

5.  A  friend  can  not  be  known  in  prosperity  ;  and  an  enemy  can  not  be 
hidden  in  adversity. 

6.  It  is  my  living  sentiment,  and,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  it  shall  be 
my  dying  sentiment;  independence  now,  and  independence  forever. 

WEBSTER. 

7.  We  live  in  deeds,  not  years, — in  thoughts,  not  breaths, — in  feelings,  not 
in  figures  on  a  dial.     We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs.     He  moat 

lives,  who  THINKS  THE  MOST, FEELS  THE  NOBLEST, ACTS  THE  BEST. 

8    You  have  done  the  mischief,  and  /  bear  the  blame. 

9.  The  wise  man  is  happy  when  he  gains  his  own  approbation;   the 
fool,  when  he  gains  that  of  others. 

10.  We  must  hold  them  as  wc  hold  the  rest  of  mankind — enemies  in 
opar, — in  peace,  friend/f.  .TKFFKasoN, 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  25 

Note  IX. — The  sense  of  a  passage  is  varied  hj  changing  the 
place  of  the  emphasis 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day  ?     No  ;  but  Charles  has. 

2.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day  ?  No  ;  but  he  haa  heard  from 
him. 

8.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day  ?     No  ;  but  he  saw  yours. 

4.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day  ?  No :  but  he  has  seen  his 
sister. 

6.  Has  James  seen  his  brother  to-day?  No;  but  he  saw  him  yes- 
ierday. 

Kemark. — To  determine  the  emphatic  words  of  a  sentence, 
as  well  as  the  degree  and  kind  of  emphasis  to  be  employed,  the 
reader  mtjst  be  governed  wholly  by  the  sentiment  to  be  expressed. 
The  idea  is  sometimes  entertained  that  emphasis  consists  merely 
in  loudness  of  tone.  But  it  should  be  borne  in  mind,  that  the 
most  intense  emphasis  may  often  be  effectively  expressed,  evea 
by  a  whisper. 


SECTION  III. 

INFLECTIONS. 

Inflections  are  turns  or  slides  of  the  voice,  made 
in   reading   or    speaking;     as,    Will    you    go    to    New 

or  to  -^ 

All  the  various  sounds  of  the  human  voice  may  be  compre- 
hended under  the  general  appellation  of  tones.  The  principal 
modifications  of  these  tones  are.  the  Monotone,  the  Rising 
Inflection,  the  Falling  Inflection,  and  the  Circumflex. 


26  SANDEES'  UNION  SEBIES. 

The  Horizontal  Line  ( — )  denotes  the  Monotone. 
The  Rising  Slide        (  x)  denotes  the  Rising  Inflection. 
The  Falling  Slide       (  \  )  denotes  the  Falling  Inflection. 
The  Curve  (^)  denotes  the  Circumflex. 

The  Monotone  is  that  sameness  of  sound,  which  arises 
from  repeating  the  several  words  or  syllables  of  a  passage 
in  one  and  the  same  general  tone. 

Remark. — The  Monotone  is  employed  with  admirable  effect 
in  the  delivery  of  a  passage  that  is  solemn  oj  sublime. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  0  thou  that  rollest  above,  round  as  the  shield  of  m^  fathers: 
whence  are  thy  beams,  0  sun,  thy  everlasting  light  ?  ossian. 

2.  'Tis  midnight's  holy  hour,  and  silence  now 
Is  brooding,  like  a  gentle  spirit,  o'er 

The  still  and  pulseless  world.     Hark!  on  the  winds 

The  bells'  deep  tones  are  swelling;  'tis  the  knell 

Of  the  departed  year.  prentice. 

3.  God  came  from  Teman,  and  the  Holy  One  from  Mount  Paran. 
Selah.  His  glory  covered  the  heavens,  and  the  earth  was  full  of  His 
praise. 

4.  Before  Him  went  the  pestilence,  and  burning  coals  went  forth  at 
His  feet.  He  stood  and  measured  the  earth:  He  beheld,  and  drove 
asunder  the  nations  ;  and  the  everlasting  mountains  were  scattered,  the 
perpetual  hills  did  bow  :  His  ways  are  everlasting.  bible. 

5.  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  iirmaraent  showeth 
His  handy  work.  Day  unto  day  iittereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night 
showeth  knowledge.  There  is  no  speech  nor  language,  where  tjieir 
-vulce  is  not  heard.  is. 

6.  How  brief  is  life  !  how  passing  brief! 

How  brief  its  joys  and  cares ! 
It  seems  to  be  in  league  with  time, 
And  leaves  us  unawares. 

'^.  The  thUnder  rolls :  be  hushed  the  prostrate  world, 

While  cloud  to  cloud  returns  the  solemn  hymn.       Thomson. 


UNION  FIFTH  READEB.  27 

Remark. — The  inappropriate  use  of  the  monotone, — a  fault 
into  which  young  people  naturally  fall, — is  a  very  grave  and 
obstinate  error.  It  is  always  tedious,  and  often  even  ridiculous. 
It  should  be  studiously  avoided. 

The  Rising  Inflection  is  an  upward  turn,  or  slide 
of  the  voice,  used  in  reading  or  speaking ;  as,  Are  you 


«»•■ 


prepared  to  recite  your  ^ 

The  Falling  Inflection  is  a  downward  turn,  or  slide 
of  the  voice,  used  in  reading  or  speaking ;  as,  What  are 


you 


In  the  falling  inflection,  the  voice  should  not  sink  below  the 
general  pitch;  but  in  the  rising  inflection,  it  is  raised  above  it. 

The  two  inflections  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following 
diagrams : 


1.  Did  he  act  "SV'^^  or 


2.  Did  they  go 


8.  If  the  flight  of  Dryden  is  '^y^     Pope  continues  longer  on  the 

X      If  the  blaze  of  Dryden's  fire  is  ^^^^      the  heat  of  Pope's  ie 

W 
more  regular  and  \< 


28  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

4.  Is  honor's  lofty  soul  forever  fled''  ? 

Is  virtue  lost^  ?     Is  martial  ardor  dead''  ? 
Is  there  no  heart  where  worth  and  valor  dwelK  ? 
No  patriot  Wallace^  ?     No  undaunted  Tell''  ? 
Yes\  Freedom,  yes^ !  thy  sons,  a  noble  band, 
Around  thy  banner,  firm,  exulting  stand\ 

Remark. — The  same  degree  of  inflection  is  not,  at  all  times, 
used,  or  indicated  by  the  notation.  The  due  degree  to  be 
employed,  depends  on  the  nature  of  what  is  to  be  expressed. 
For  example  j  if  a  person,  under  great  excitement,  asks  another. 


Are  you  in    "^  tbe  degree   of  inflection   would   be   much 

greater,  than  if  he  playfully  asks :  Are  you  in   '^  The 

former  inflection  may  be  called  intensive^  the  latter,  common. 


RULES  FOR  THE  USE  OF  INFLECTIONS. 

RULE  I. 

Direct  questions,  or  those  which  may  be  answered  by 
yes  or  no,  usually  take  the  rising  inflection;  but  their 
answers,  generally,  the  falling, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Will  you  meet  me  at  the  depot''  ?     Yes^ ;  or,  I  will\ 

2.  Did  you  intend  to  visit  Boston-'?     No^;   or,  I  did  not\ 
8.  Can  you  explain  this  difficult  sentence''  ?     Yes'' ;  I  can. 

4.  Are  they  willing  to  remain  at  home''  ?     They  are\ 

5.  Is  this  a  time  for  imbecility  and  inaction^?     By  no  means'. 

6.  King  Agrippa,  believest  thou  the  prophets^  ?  I  know  that  thou 
believest\ 

7.  Were  the  tribes  of  this  country,  when  first  discovered,  making  any 
progress  in  arts  and  civilization''  ?     By  no  meaus\ 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER,  29 

8  To  purchase  heaven  has  gold  the  power^? 

Can  gold  remove  the  mortal  hour''  ? 
In  life,  can  love  be  bought  with  gold^  ? 
Are  friendship's  pleasures  to  be  sold-'  ? 
No^ ;  all  that's  worth  a  wish,  a  thought, 
Fair  virtue  gives  unbrif>ed,  unbought. 
9.  What  would  content  you^  ?     Talents^  ?     No\     Enterprise^  ?     No\ 
Courage^?      No\       Reputation^?      No\      Virtue^?      No\       The   man 
whom  you  would  select,  should  possess  not  one,  but  all  of  these^. 

Note  I. — When  the  direct  question  becomes  an  appeal,  and 
the  reply  to  it  is  anticipated,  it  takes  the  intense  falling 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  li"  he  not  a  bold  and  eloquent  speaker^  ? 

2.  Can>  such  inconsistent  measures  be  adopted^  ? 
8.  Di^  you  ever  hear  of  such  cruel  barbarities^  ? 
4.  Is  this  reason^  ?     Is  it  law^  ?     7s  it  humanity^  ? 
6.  Wai"  not  the  gentleman's  argument  conclusive^  ? 

RULE   II. 

Indirect  questions,  or  those  which  can  not  be  answered 
by  ye%  or  wo,  usually  take  t\iQ  falling  inflection,  and  their 
answers  the  same. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  How  far  did  you  travel  yesterday^  ?     Forty  miles\ 

2.  Which  of  you  brought  this  beautiful  bouquet^  ?     Julia^. 

8.  Where  do  you  intend  to  spend  the  summer^  ?     At  Saratoga*. 

4.  When  -Will  Charles  graduate  at  college^  ?     Next  year\ 

5.  What  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  emotions  of  the  hearO? 
Gratitude\ 

Note  I. — When  the  indirect  question  is  one  asking  a  repe- 
tition of  what  was  not,  at  first,  understood,  it  takes  the  rising 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  When  do  you  expect  to  return  ?     Next  week. 
When  did  you  say^  ?     Next  week. 

2.  Where  did  you  say  William  had  gone''  ?     To  New  York. 


30  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES.  ; 

Note  II. — Answers  to  questions,  whetlier  direct  or  indirect,  ^ 
when  expressive  of  indifference,  take  the  rising  inflection,  or  '■ 
the  circumflex. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Did  you  admire  his  discourse  ?     Not  much''. 

2.  Which  way  shall  we  walk  ?     I  am  not  particular^ 
S.  Can  Henry  go  with  us  ?     If  he  chooses'. 

4.  What  color  do  you  prefer  ?     I  have  no  particular  choice^ 

Note  III. — In  some  instances,  direct  questions  become  in- 
direct by  a  change  of  the  inflection  from  the  rising  to  the 
falling. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Will  you  come  to-morrow'  or  next  day'  ?     Yes. 

2.  Will  you  come  to-morrow/  or  next  day^  ?     I  will  come  to-morrow. 

Remark. — The  first  question  asks  if  the  person  addressed 
will  come  within  the  two  days,  and  may  be  answered  by  yes  or 
no  ;  but  the  second  asks  on  which  of  the  two  days  he  will  come, 
and  it  can  not  be  thus  answered. 


KULE  III. 

When  questions  are  connected  by  the  conjunction  or, 
the  first  requires  the  rising^  and  the  second,  the  falling 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Does  he  study  for  amusement'',  or  improvement^  ? 

2.  Was  he  esteemed  for  his  wealth'',  or  for  his  wisdom^  ? 

3.  Sink''  or  swim\  live'  or  die\  survive'  or  perish\  I  give  my  hand 
and  heart  to  this  vote.  webster. 

4.  Is  it  lawful  to  do  good  on  the  Sabbath-days'',  or  to  do  evil^  ?  to 
gave  life^  or  to  kiir  ?  bible. 

5.  Was  it  an  act  of  moral  courage'',  or  cowardice\  for  Cato  to  fall  on 
his  sword^  ? 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  31 


RULE   IV. 

Antitlietic  terms  or  clauses  usually  take  opposite  in- 
flections ;  generally,  the  former  has  the  rising,  and  the 
latter  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  If  you  seek  to  make  one  rich,  study  not  to  increase  his  stor<;£  , 
but  to  diminish  his  desires\ 

2.  They  have  mouths', — but  they  speak  not^: 
JSyes  have  they', — but  they  see  noO  : 
They  have  ears'',  — but  they  hear  not^  r 
looses  have  they', — but  they  smell  not^ : 
They  have  hands', — but  they  handle  not^r 

Feet  have  they', — but  they  walk  not\  biblh. 

Note  I. — When  one  of  the  antithetic  clauses  is  a  negative, 
and  the  other  an  affirmative^  generally  the  negative  has  the 
rising^  and  the  afl&rmative  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  T  said  an  elder  soldier\  not  a  better'. 

2.  His  acts  deserve  punishment\  rather  than  commiseration^ 

8.  This  is  no  time  for  a  tribunal  of  justice',  but  for  showing  mercy^; 
not  for  accusation',  but  for  philanthropy^ ;  not  for  trial',  but  for  pardon^; 
not  for  sentence  and  execution',  but  for  compassion  and  kindness\ 


RULE   V. 

The  Pause  of  Suspension,  denoting  that  the  sense   is 
incomplete,  usually  has  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom',  neither  shall  fruit  be  in 
the  vine';  the  labor  of  the  olive  shall  fail',  and  the  fields  shall  yield  no 
meat' ;  the  flocks  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold',  and  there  shall  be  no 
herd  in  the  stalls';  yet  will  I  rejoice  in  the  Lord\  I  will  joy  in  the 
God  of  my  salvation\  bible. 


32  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

Note  I. — The  ordinary  direct  address,  not  accompanied  with 
strong  emphasis,  takes  \the  rising  inflection  on  the  principle  of 
the  pause  of  suspension. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Men'',  brethren',  and  fathers^,  hear  ye  my  defense  which  I  make 
DOW  unto  you.  biblb. 

2.  Ye  living  flowers-',  that  skirt  the  eternal  frost-' ! 
Ye  wild  goats'',  sporting  round  the  eagle's  nest''! 
Ye  eagles'',  playmates  of  the  mountain  storm'' ! 
Y'^e  lightnings'',  the  dread  arrows  of  the  clouds'' ! 
Ye  signs''  and  wonders''  of  the  elements'' ! 

Utter  forth  God^,  and  fill  the  hills  with  praise^ !   colebidoe. 

Note  II. — In  some  instances  of  a  pause  of  suspension,  the 
sense  requires  an  intense  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLE. 

1.  The  prodigal,  if  he  does  not  become  a  pauper^y  will,  at  least,  have 
but  little  to  bestow  on  others. 

Hem  ARK. — If  the  rising  inflection  is  given  on  pauper  ^  the 
sense  would  be  perverted,  and  the  passage  made  to  mean,  that, 
in  order  to  be  able  to  bestow  on  others,  it  is  necessary  that  he 
should  become  a  pauper. 


RULE   VI. 

Expressions   of  tenderness,  as  of  srrief,  or  kindness, 
commonly  incline  the  voice  to  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Mother'', — I  leave  thy  dwelling' ; 

Oh  I  shall  it  be  forever''  ? 
With  grief  my  heart  is  swelling'', 
From  thee'', — from  thee-', — to  sever-'. 

2.  O  my  son  Absalom' !  my  son'',  my  son  Absalom'' !     Would  God  I 
had  died  for  thee-',  Absalom'',  my  son'',  my  son' !  \ii&\.v^. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  33 

RULE   VII. 

The  Penultimate  Pause,  or  the  last  hut  one,  of  a 
passage,  is  usually  preceded  hy  the  rising  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Diligence\  Indus try\  and  proper  improvement  of  time'',  are  mate- 
rial duties  of  the  young.^ 

2.  These  through  faith  subdued  kingdoms\  wrought  righteousness\ 
obtained  promises\  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions\  quenched  the  violence 
of  fire\  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword\  out  of  weakness  were  made 
Btrong\  waxed  valiant  in  fight^,  turned  to  flight  the  armies  of  the 
aliens\ 

Remark. — The  rising  inflection  is  employed  at  the  penulti- 
mate pause  in  order  to  promote  variety,  since  the  voice  generally 
falls  at  the  end  of  a  sentence. 

RULE   VIII. 

Expressions  of  strong  emotion,  as  of  anger  or  surprise, 
and  also  the  language  of  authority  and  reproach,  are 
expressed  with  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  On  YOu\  and  on  your  children^,  be  the  peril  of  the  innocent 
blood  which  shall  be  shed  this  day\ 

2.  What  a  piece  of  workmanship  is  manM  How  noble  in  reasonM 
How  infinite  in  faculties^  ! 

8.  0  FOOLS^ !  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  all  that  the  prophets  havo 
written  concerning  me^ !    •  bible. 

4.  Hence\  HaME\  you  idle  creatures^,  get  you  home\ 

You  BLOCKS^  YOU  ST0NES\  YOU  WORSE  THAN  USELESS  THINGS^  ! 

5.  Avaunt^ !  and  quit  my  sight^ !  let  the  earth  hide  thee^ !  Thy  bones 
are  marrowless^ ;  thou  hast  no  speculation  in  thine  eyes  which  thou  dost 
glare^  with.  shakspeabe. 

6.  Slave,  do  thy  officeM     Strike\  as  I  struck  the  foe^ ! 
Strike\  as  I  would  have  struck  the  tyrants^ ! 

Strike  deep  as  my  curso^ !     Strike\  and  but  once^ !  id. 

3 


84  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

RULE   IX. 
An  emphatic  succession  of  particulars,  and  emphatic 
repetition,  require  the  falling  inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Bewari"  what  earth  calls  happiness  ;  be-warb^ 
All  joys  but  joys  that  never  can  expire\ 

2.  A  great  mind\  a  great  heart',  a    great  orator\  a  great    career. 
have  been  consigned  to  history\  butler. 

Remark. — The  stress  of  voice  on  each  successive  particu- 
lar, or  repetition,  should  gradually  be  increased  as  the  subject 
advances. 

The  Circumflex  is  a  union  of  the  two  inflections  on 
the  same  word,  beginning  either  with  the  falling  and 
ending  with  the   rising,  or  with  the  rising  and   ending 

with  the  falling ;  as,  If  he  goes  to  ^  ^a>^"^  I  shall  go  to 

The  circumflex  is  mainly  employed  in  the  language  of 
irony,  and  in  expressing  ideas  implying  some  condition, 
either  expressed  or  understood. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  You,  a  beardless  youth,  pretend  to  teach  a  British  generaL 

2.  What!  shear  a -wolf ?  a  prowling  wolf ? 

8.  My  father's  trade  ?  ah,  really,  that's  too  bad  ? 

My  father's  trade  ?     Why,  blockhead,  are  you  mad  ? 
My  father,  sir,  did  never  stoop  so  low, — 
He  was  a  gentleman,  I'd  have  you  know. 

4.  What!  confer  a  crown  on  the  author  of  the  public  calamities? 

5.  But  you  are  very  wise  men,  and  deeply  learned  in  the  truth ;  we 
are  weak,  contemptible,  mean  persons. 

6.  They  pretend  they  come  to  improve  our  state,  enlarge  our  thoughts, 
and  free  us  from  error. 

7.  But  youth,  it  seems,  is  not  my  only  crime ;  I  have  been  accused 
of  acting  a  theatrical  part. 

8.  And  this  man  has  become  a  god,  and  Cassius  a  wretched  creature. 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  35 

SECTION  IV. 

MODULATION. 

Modulation  implies  those  variations  of  the  voice, 
heard  in  reading  or  speaking,  which  are  prompted  by 
the  feelings  and  emotions  that  the  subject  inspires. 

EXAMPLES. 
EXPRESSIVE    OP    COURAGE    AND    CHIVALROUS    EXCITEMENT. 

Full        f  Once  more  unto  the  breach,  dear  friends,  once  more^ 

Tone.      \  Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  English  dead ! 

Middle  r  In  peace,  there's  nothing  so  becomes  a  man. 

Tone.      I.  As  modest  stillness  and  humility  ; 

r  But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears. 
Short  .    .  ,  .         „    ,       . 

J  Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger ; 

^  I  StiflFen  the  sinews,  summ'on  up  the  blood, 

[Disguise  fair  nature  with  hard-favored  rage. 


High 

AND 

Loud. 


Quick, 

AND 
VERY 

Loud. 


'  On,  ON,  you  noblest  English, 

Whose  blood  is  fetched  from  fathers  of  war-proof  I 
Fathers,  that,  like  so  many  Alexanders, 
Have,  in  these  parts,  from  morn  till  even  fought, 
And  sheathed  their  swords  for  lack  of  argument. 
I  see  you  stand  like  greyhounds  in  the  slips, 
Straining  upon  the  start.     The  game's  afoot ; 
Follow  your  spirits,  and,  upon  this  charge, 
Cry — Heaven  for  Harry!  England!  and  St.  George! 

shakspearb. 


Remark. — To  read  the  foregoing  example  in  one  dull,  mo- 
notonous tone  of  voice,  without  regard  to  the  sentiment  ex- 
pressed, would  render  the  passage  extremely  insipid  and  life- 
less. But  by  a  proper  modulation  of  the  voice,  it  infuses  into 
the  mind  of  the  reader  or  hearer  the  most  animating  and 
exciting  emotions. 

The  voice  is  modulated  in  three  different  ways.  First,  it  is 
varied  in  Pitch;  that  is,  from  high  to  low  tones,  and  the 
reverse.  Secondly,  it  is  varied  in  Quantity,  or  in  loudness  or 
volume  of  sound.  Thirdly^  it  is  varied  in  Quality,  or  in  the 
hind  of  sound  expressed. 


SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 


PITCH    OF   VOICE. 


Pitch  of  Voice  has  reference  to  its  degree  of  ele- 
vation. 

Every  person,  in  reading  or  speaking,  assumes  a  certain 
pitch,  which  may  be  either  high  or  low^  according  to  circum- 
stances, and  which  has  a  governing  influence  on  the  variations 
of  the  voice,  above  and  below  it.  This  degree  of  elevation  is 
usually  called  the  Key  Note. 

As  an  exercise  in  varying  the  voice  in  pitch,  the  practice  of 
uttering  a  sentence  on  the  several  degrees  of  elevation,  as 
represented  in  the  following  scale,  will  be  found  beneficial. 
First,  utter  the  musical  syllables,  then  the  vowel  sound,  and 
lastly,  the  proposed  sentence, — ascending  and  descending, 

8. — do — 0 — e-in-me. — Virtue  alone  survives. ■ 


7.     si     0    t  in'  die.     Virtue  alone  survives. 
-6. — la — Q — o-in-do. — Virtue  alone  survives. — 


5.    sol    0      o  in  no.     Virtue  alone  survives 

4. — fa — 0 — a-in-at. — Virtue  alone  survives. — 

8.    mi     ^     a  in  ate.     Virtue  alone  survives. 
-2, — re — 0 — a-in-far. — Virtue  alone  survives 


1.     do     0    a  in  all.     Virtue  alone  survives. 

Although  the  voice  is  capable  of  as  many  variations  in 
speaking,  as  are  marked  on  the  musical  scale,  yet  for  all  the 
purposes  of  ordinary  elocution,  it  will  be  sufficiently  exact  if  we 
make  but  three  degrees  of  variation,  viz.,  the  Low,  the  Middle^ 
and  the  High. 

1.  The  Low  Pitch  is  that  which  falls  below  the  usual 
speaking  key,  and  is  employed  in  expressing  emotions  of 
sublimity  J  awe,  and  reverence. 

EXAMPLE. 

Silence,  how  dead!  darkness,  how  profound  I      * 

Nor  eye,  nor  list'ning  ear,  an  object  finds ; 

Creation  sleeps.     'Tis  as  the  general  pulse 

Of  life  stood  still,  and  Nature  made  a  pause, — 

An  awful  pause  I  prophetic  of  her  end.  youno. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  37 

2.  The  Middle  Pitch  is  that  usually  employed  in  common 
conversation,  and  in  expressing  unim}.passioned  thought  and 
TTVoderate  emotion. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  It  was  early  in  a  summer  morning,  -when  the  air  was  cool,  the 
earth  moist,  the  whole  face  of  the  creation  fresh  and  gay,  that  I  lately 
walked  in  a  beautiful  flower  garden,  and,  at  once,  regaled  the  senses 
;  nd  indulged  the  fancy.  hebvey. 

2.  *'  I  love  to  live,''  said  a  prattling  boy, 

As  he  gayly  played  with  his  new-bought  toy, 
And  a  merry  laugh  went  echoing  forth, 
From  a  bosom  filled  with  joyous  mirth. 

8.  The  High  Pitch  is  that  which  rises  above  the  usual 
speaking  key,  and  is  used  in  expressing  joyous  and  elevated 
feelings 

EXAMPLE. 

Higher,  higher,  ever  higher, — 
Let  the  watchword  be  '* Aspire!'* 

Noble  Christian  youth ; 
Whatsoe'er  be  God's  behest, 
Try  to  do  that  duty  best, 

In  the  strength  of  Truth.  m.  f.  tupper. 

QUANTITY. 

Quantity  is  two-fold ; — consisting  in  fullness  or 
VOLUME  of  sound,  as  soft  or  loud ;  and  in  time,  as  slow 
or  quick.  The  former  has  reference  to  stress;  the 
latter,  to  MOVEMENT. 

The  degrees  of  variation  in  quantity  are  numerous,  varying 
from  a  slight,  soft  whisper  to  a  vehement  shout.  But  for  all 
practical  purposes,  they  may  be  considered  as  three,  the  same 
as  in  pitch ; — the  soft,  the  middle,  and  the  loud. 

For  exercise  in  quantity,  let  the  pupil  read  any  sentence,  as, 

*' Beauty  is  a  fading  flower," 


88     '  SANDERS*  UNION  SERIES. 

first  in  a  slight,  soft  tone,  and  then  repeat  it,  gradually  in- 
creasing in  quantity  to  .the  full  extent  of  the  voice.  Also,  let 
liim  read  it  first  very  slowly,  and  then  repeat  it  gradually 
increasing  the  movement.  In  doing  this,  he  should  be  careful 
not  to  vary  the  pitch. 

In  like  manner,  let  him  repeat  any  vowel  sound,  or  all  of 
them,  and  also  inversely.     Thus : 

00000000  OOO 
OOOO       0000000 

Remark. — Quantity  is  often  mistaken  for  Pitch.  But  it 
should  be  borne  in  mind  that  quantity  has  reference  to  loudness 
or  volume  of  sound,  and  pitch  to  the  elevation  or  depression  of  a 
tone.  The  difference  may  be  distinguished  by  the  slight  and 
heavy  strokes  on  a  bell : — both  of  which  produce  sounds  alike 
in  pitch  ;  but  they  differ  in  quantity  or  loudness^  in  proportion 
as  the  strokes  are  light  or  heavy. 

RULES   FOR   QUANTITY. 

1.  Soft,  or  Subdued  Tones,  are  those  which  range  from  a 
whisper  to  a  complete  vocality,  and  are  used  to  express  fear^ 
caution^  secrecy y  solemnity^  and  all  tender  emotions. 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  We  watchefl  her  breathing  through  the  night, 

Her  breathing  soft  and  low, 
As  in  her  breast  the  wave  of  life 

Kept  heaving  to  and  fro.  •  hood. 

2.  Softly,  peacefully, 

Lay  her  to  rest ; 
Place  the  turf  lightly. 

On  her  young  breast.  d.  k.  goodman. 

8.  The  loud  wind  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low, 

And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered, — "No." 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  39 

2.  A  Middle  Tone,  or  medium  loudness  of  voice,  is  em- 
ployed in  reading  narrative^  descriptive^  or  didaciic  sentences, 

EXAMPLE. 

I  love  my  country's  pine-clad  hills, 
Her  thousand  bright  and  gushing  rills, 

Her  sunshine  and  her  storms ; 
Her  rough  and  rugged  rocks  that  rear 
Their  hoary  heads  high  in  the  air, 

In  "wild  fantastic  forms. 

3.  A  Loud  Tone,  or  fullness  and  stress  of  voice  is  used  in 
expressing  violent  passions  and  vehement  emotions, 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  Stand  !  the  ground's  your  oww,  my  braves,-— 
Will  ye  give  it  up  to  slaves? 

Will  ye  look  for  greener  graves  ? 

Hope  ye  mercy  still  ? 
What's  the  mercy  despots  feel  ? 
Hear  it  in  that  battle-peal, — 
Read  it  on  yon  bristling  steel, — 

Ask  it — ye  who  will !  pieepont, 

2.  '«  Hold  !"  Tyranny  cries  ;  but  their  resolute  breath 
Sends  back  the  reply  :   "  Independence  or  death  !" 


QUALITY. 

Quality  has  reference  to  the  kind  of  sound  uttered. 

Two  sounds  may  be  alike  in  quantity  and  pitch,  yet  diflfer  in 
quality.  The  sounds  produced  on  the  clarinet  and  flute,  may 
agree  in  pitch  and  quantity,  yet  be  unlike  in  quality.  The 
same  is  true  in  regard  to  the  tones  of  the  voice  of  two  indi- 
viduals. This  difference  is  occasioned  mainly  by  the  different 
positions  of  the  vocal  organs. 

The  qualities  of  voice  mostly  used  in  reading  or  speaking^ 
and  which  should  receive  the  highest  degree  of  culture,  are  the 
Pure  Tone^  the  Orotund^  the  Aspirated,  and  the  Guttural. 


40  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

RULES    FOR   QUALITY. 

1.  The  Pure  Tone  is  a  clear,  smooth,  sonorous  flow  of 
sound,  usually  accompanied  with  the  middle  pitch  of  voice, 
anH  is  adapted  to  express  emotions  oijoy^  cheerfulnesSj  love^  and 
tranquillity. 

EXAMPLE. 

Hail !  beauteous  stranger  of  the  wood, 
,        Attendant  on  the  spring, 
Now  heaven  repairs  thy  vernal  seat, 
And  woods  thy  welcome  sing. 

2.  The  Orotund  is  a  full,  deep,  round,  and  pure  tone  of 
voice,  peculiarly  adapted  in  expressing  sublime  and  pathetic 
emotions. 

EXAMPLE. 

It  thunders !     Sons  of  dust,  in  reverence  bow  I 
Ancient  of  Days !  Thou  speakest  from  above : 
Almighty  !  trembling,  like  a  timid  child, 
I  hear  thy  awful  voice.     Alarmed — afraid — 
I  see  the  flashes  of  thy  lightning  wild, 
And  in  the  very  grave  would  hide  my  head. 

3.  The  Aspirated  Tone  of  voice  is  not  a  pure,  vocal  sound, 
hut  rather  a  forcible  breathing  utterance,  and  is  used  to  express 
amazement^  fear^  terror^  anger,  revenge,  remorse,  and  fervent 
emotions. 

EXAMPLE. 

Oh,  coward  conscience,  how  dost  thou  afl'right  me  I 
The  lights  burn  blue.     It  is  now  dead  midnight ; 
Cold,  fearful  drops  stand  on  my  trembling  flesh. 

4.  The  Guttural  Quality  is  a  deep,  aspirated  tone  of 
voice,  used  to  express  aversion,  hatred^  loathing,  and  contempt. 

EXAMPLE. 

Tell  me  I  hate  the  bowl  ? 

Hate  is  a  feeble  word  : 
I  loathe,  ABHOR,  my  very  soul 

With  strong  disgust  is  stirred, 
Whene'er  I  see,  or  hear,  or  tell. 
Of  the  dark  beverage  of  hell. 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  41 


NOTATION    IN    MODULATION. 

(<')high.  (p.)  soft. 

('*°)  high  and  loud.  (^.)  very  soft. 

(  o  )  low.  (  /  )  loud, 

(oo)  low  ^^^  loud.  (/.  )  very  loud. 

(=)  quick.  (p?.)  plaintive. 

(  "  )  short  and  quick.  {  <C  )  increase. 

{si.)  slow.  (^  )  decrease. 

EXAMPLES    FOR   EXEKCISE    IN    MODCXATIGIT. 

(/>.)      Soft  is  the  strain  -when  zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows ; 

(/.)      But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore, 

The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar. 

(si.)      When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw. 
The  line,  too,  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow ; 

(^      Not  80,  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain. 

Flies  o'er  the  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main,    pop: 

(^)  Go  ring  the  bella  and  fire  the  guns. 

And  fling  the  starry  banner  out ; 
(ff.)  •  fihout  "Freedom"  till  your  lisping  ones 

Give  back  the  cradle  shout.  whittibb. 

(j>L)  **  And  now,  farewell !     'Tis  hard  to  give  thee  up. 

With  death  so  like  a  gentle  slumber  on  thee ! — 
And  thy  dark  sin  ! — oh  !  I  could  drink  the  cup. 
If  from  this  woe  its  bitterness  had  won  thee. 
May  God  have  called  thee,  like  a  wanderer,  home. 

My  lost  boy,  Absalom  !"  wiLua 

isl.y  The  sun  hath  set  in  folded  clouds, — 

Its  twilight  rays  are  gone, 
(^  And,  gathered  in  the  shades  of  night. 

The  storm  is  rolling  on. 
(pi.)  Alas!  how  ill  that  bursting  storm 

/"-^\  The  fainting  spirit  braves, 

(^.)  When  they, — the  lovely  and  the  lost, — 

(jd.)  Are  gone  to  early  graves  I 


42  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES.  ^ 

(°)  On !  onward  still !  o'er  the  land  he  sweeps, 

(<^^  With  wreck,  and  ruin,  and  rush,  and  roar, 

Nor  stops  to  look  back 

On  his  dreary  track, 
(^^)  But  speeds  to  the  spoils  before.  miss  j.  h.  lbwis. 

From  every  battle-field  of  the  revolution — from  Lexington  afid  Bunker 
Hill — from  Saratoga  and  Yorktown — from  the  fields  of  Eutaw — from  the 
cane-brakes  that  sheltered  the  men  of  Marion — the  repeated,  long- 
prolonged  echoes  came  up — (/.)  *'  The  Union  :  it  must  be  preserved.'* 
(<C)  From  every  valley  in  our  land — from  every  cabin  on  the  pleasant 
mountain  sides — from  the  ships  at  our  wharves — from  the  tents  of  the 
hunter  in  our  westernmost  prairies — from  the  living  minds  of  the  living 
millions  of  American  freemen — from  the  thickly  coming  glories  of  futu- 
rity— the  shout  went  up,  like  the  sound  of  many  waters,  (ff.)  "THE 
UNION:    IT  MUST  BE  PRESERVED."  Bancroft. 

{p.)  Hark! 

(si.)  Along  the  vales  and  mountains  of  the  earth 

(o)-  There  is  a  deep,  portentous  murmuring, 

(=)  Like  the  swift  rush  of  subterranean  streams. 

Or  like  the  mingled  sounds  of  earth  and  air, 

When  the*  fierce  tempest,  with  sonorous  wing, 

Heaves  his  deep  folds  upon  the  rushing  winds, 
f<^')        And  hurries  onward,  with  his  night  of  clouds. 

Against  the  eternal  mountains.     'Tis  the  voice 

Of  infant  Freedom, — and  her  stirring  call 

Is  heard  and  answered  in  a  thousand  tones 
^<^^        From  every  hill-top  of  her  western  home ; 

And  lo !  it  breaks  across  old  Ocean's  flood, — 
(°°)  And  "Freedom!  Freedom!"  is  the  answering  shout 

Of  nations,  starting  from  the  spell  of  years,      g.  d.  prentioh. 

('^^  The  thunders  hushed, — 

The  trembling  lightning  fled  away  in  fear, — . 

(p.)  The  foam-capt  surges  sunk  to  quiet  rest, — 

The  raging  winds  grew  still, — 

{pp.)  There  was  a  calm. 

(°/°/)  "Quick!     Man  the  boat!"     (=)  Away  they  spring 

The  stranger  ship  to  aid, 
(/.)  And  loud  their  hailing  voices  ring, 

As  rapid  speed  they  made. 


UNION  FIFTH   READER.  48 

(p.)  Hush  !  lightly  tread  !  still  tranquilly  she  sleeps ; 

I've  watched,  suspending  e'en  my  breath,  in  fear 
To  break  the  heavenly  spell,     {pp-}  Move  silently. 

Can  it  be  ? 
Matter  immortal  ?  and  shall  spirit  die  ? 
Above  the  nobler,  shall  less  nobler  rise  ? 
(<[)  Shall  man  alone,  for  whom  all  else  revives, 

No  resurrection  know?     (  <C)  Shall  man  alone, 

Imperial  man  !  be  sown  in  barren  ground, 

Less  privileged  than  grain,  on  which  he  feeds  ?        youno. 

(=)  Away  !  away  to  the  mountain's  brow, 

Where  the  trees  are  gently  waving ; 

(J^)  Away  !  away  to  the  vale  below. 

Where  the  streams  are  gently  laving. 

An  hour  passed  on  ; — the  Turk  awoke  ; — 

That  bright  dream  was  his  last ; — 
He  woke — to  hear  his  sentry's  shriek, 
(oo)  '<To  ARMS  !  they  come!  (/".)  the  Greek!  the  Greek!" 

(pi)         He  woke — to  die,  midst  flame  and  smoke» 
And  shout,  and  groan,  and  saber-stroke. 
And  death-shots  falling  thick  and  fast 
As  lightnings  from  the  mountain  cloud; 
And  heard,  with  voice  as  trumpet  loud, 
Bozzaris  cheer  his  band  ; — 
(<•**)  «*  Strike — till  the  last  armed  foe  expires ! 

Strike — for  your  altars  and  your  fires  ! 
Strike — for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires! 
God,  and  your  native  land!"  halleck. 

He  said,  and  on  the  rampart  hights  arrayed 
His  trusty  warriors,  few,  but  undismayed  ; 
(si.)  Firm-paced  and  slow,  a  horrid  front  they  form, 

{pp.)  Still  as  the  breeze,  (qq)  but  dreadful  as  the  storm  I 

{Pq.)  Low,  murmuring  sounds  along  their  banners  fly^^ 

(/".)  Revenge,  or  death  ! — the  watchword  and  reply  ; 

/oo\  Then  pealed  the  notes,  omnipotent  to  charm, 

(/.)  And  the  loud  tocsin  tolled  their  last  alarm  !        Campbell. 

("l")  His  speech  was  at  first  low-toned  and  slow.  Sometimes  hia 
voice  would  deepen,  (qq)  Irke  the  sound  of  distant  thunder;  and  anon, 
(^^)  his  flashes  of  wit  and  enthusiasm  would  light  up  the  anxious  facea 
of  his  hearers,  (<0  like  the  far-off  lightning  of  a  coming  storm. 


44  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

(^)  Receding  now,  the  dying  numbers  ring 

{p.)  Fainter  and  fainter,  down  the  rugged  dell: 

(PP-)         And  now — 'tis  silent  all — enchantress,  fare  thee  welL 

(=)  Oh,  joy  to  the  world !  the  hour  is  come, 

When  the  nations  to  freedom  awake, 
"When  the  royalists  stand  agape  and  dumb, 

And  monarchs  with  terror  shake ! 
Over  the  walls  of  majesty, 

**  Upharsin"  is  writ  in  words  of  fire, 
And  the  eyes  of  the  bondmen,  wherever  they  be. 
Are  lit  with  their  wild  desire. 
(<^  Soon,  soon  shall  the  thrones  that  blot  the  world. 

Like  the  Orleans,  into  the  dust  be  hurl'd. 
And  the  world  roll  on,  like  a  hurricane's  breath, 
Till  the  farthest  nation  hears  what  it  saith, — 
(/.)  "ARISE!   ARISE!    BE  FREE !"  t.  b.  eeao. 

(p'\  Tread  softly — bow  the  head, — 

In  reverent  silence  bow, — 
No  passing  bell  doth  toll, — 
(pi.)  Yet  an  immortal  soul 

Is  passing  now.  mrs.  southet. 

(■*)  Speak  OUT,  my  friends;  would  you  exchange  it  for  the  demon's 
DRINK,  (ff)  ALCOHOL?  A  skout,  like  the  roar  of  a  tempest,  aa- 
swered,  (°°^   NO! 

(*=■**)  The  combat  deepens!     (jf.)  On!  ye  brave! 

(=)  Who  rush  to  glory,  (p.)  or  the  grave  ! 

(#)  Wave,  Munich,  all  thy  banners  wave! 

And  CHARGE  with  all  thy  Chivalry  ! 
(pL)  Ah!  few  shall  part  where  many  meet! 

The  snow  shall  be  their  winding  sheet. 

And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet 
f'l-^  Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulcher !  campbeli.. 

(si.)    At  length,  o'er  Columbus  slow  consciousness  breaks, 

(°°)     "Land!    land!"    cry   the- sailors;     (/".)    "land!    land!"— he 

awakes, — 
{^^)    He  runs, — yes  !  behold  it !  it  blesseth  Ms  sight ! 
The  land  !   0,  dear  spectacle .'  transport !  delight  / 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  45 

SECTION  V. 

THE    RHETORICAL    PAUSE. 

Rhetorical  Pauses  are  those  which  are  frequently 
required  by  the  voice  in  reading  and  speaking,  although 
the  construction  of  the  passage  admits  of  no  grammatical 
pause. 

These  pauses  are  as  manifest  to  the  ear,  as  those  which  are 
made  by  the  comma,  semicolon,  or  other  grammatical  pauses, 
though  not  G-ommonly  denoted  in  like  manner  by  any  visible 
sign.     In  the  following  examples  they  are  denoted  thus^  (  || ). 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  In  slumbers  of  midnight  ||  the  sailor-boy  lay, 

His  hammock  swung  loose  ||  at  the  sport  of  the  wind ; 
But  watch-worn  and  weary,  |J  his  cares  flew  away, 

And  visions  of  happiness  [)  danced  o'er  his  mind.       dimond. 

2.  There  is  a  land,||  of  every  land  the  pride, 
Beloved  of  heaven  ||  o'er  all  the  world  beside ; 
"Where  brighter  suns  ||  dispense  serener  light. 
And  milder  moons  ||  imparadise  the  night. 

O,  thou  shalt  find,||  howe'er  thy  footsteps  roam. 
That  land  thy  country, ||  and  that  spot  thy  home! 

This  pause  is  generally  made  before  or  after  the  utterance 
of  some  important  word  or  clause,  on  which  it  is  especially 
desired  to  fix  the  attention.  In  such  cases  it  is  usually  denoted 
by  the  use  of  the  dash  ( — ). 

EXAMPLES. 

1.  God  said — **  Let  there  be  light !" 

2.  All  dead  and  silent  was  the  earth, 

In  deepest  night  it  lay  ; 
The  Eternal  spoke  creation's  word, 
And  called  to  being — Day  ! 


46  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

No  definite  rule  can  be  given  with  reference  to  the  length  of 
the  rhetorical,  or  grammatical  pause.  The  correct  taste  of  the 
reader  or  speaker  must  determine  it.  For  the  voice  should 
sometimes  be  suspended  much  longer  at  the  same  pause  in  one 
situation  than  in  another  j  as  in  the  two  following 

EXAMPLES. 

LONG    PAUSE, 

Pause  a  moment.  I  heard  a  footstep.  Listen  now.  I  heard  it 
again ;  but  it  is  going  from  us.  It  sounds  fainter,-^still  fainter. 
It  is  gone. 

SHORT    PAUSE. 

John,  be  quick.  Get  some  water.  Throw  the  powder  overboard. 
"It  can  npt  be  reached."  Jump  into  the  boat,  then.  Shove  off.  There 
goes  the  powder.     Thank  Heaven.     We  are  safe. 


REMARKS  TO  TEACHERS. 

It  is  of  the  utmost  importance,  in  order  to  secure  an  easy  and 
elegant  style  in  reading,  to  refer  the  pupil  often  to  the  more 
important  principles  involved  in  a  just  elocution.  To  this  end, 
it  will  be  found  very  advantageous,  occasionally  to  review  the 
rules  and  directions  given  in  the  preceding  pages,  and  thus 
early  accustom  him  to  apply  them  in  the  subsequent  reading 
lessons.  For  a  wider  range  of  examples  and  illustrations,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  refer  to  the  numerous  and  various  exercises 
which  form  the  body  of  this  book.  They  have  been  selected, 
m  many  cases,  with  a  special  view  to  this  object. 


PART    SECOND. 


LESSON   I. 

Vi' A  DUCT,  (via,  a  way;  duct,  lead;)  a  structure,  usually  of  masonry,  for 
carrying  a  railway  across  a  valley  or  river ;  a  bridge. 


ACHIEVEMENTS   AND  DIGNITY  OF  LABOR. 

REV.  NEWMAN  HALL. 

'HE  DIGNITY  OF  Labor  !  Consider  its  achieve- 
ments !  Dismayed  by  no  difficulty,  shrinking 
from  no  exertion,  exhausted  by  no  struggle,  ever 
eager  for  renewed  efforts  in  its  persevering  pro- 
motion of  human  happiness,  "  clamorous  Labor 
knocks  with  its  hundred  hands  at  the  golden  gate 

of  the  morning,"  obtaining  each  day,  through  succeeding 

centuries,  fresh  benefactions  for  the  world  ! 

2.  Labor  clears  the  forest,  and  drains  the  morass,  and 
makes  the  wilderness  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose.  La- 
bor drives  the  plow,  scatters  the  seed,  reaps  the  harvest, 
grinds  the  corn,  and  converts  it  into  bread,  the  staff  of 
life.  Labor,  tending  the  pastures,  as  w^ell  as  cultivating 
the  soil,  provides  with  daily  sustenance  the  one  thousafid 
millions  of  the  family  of  man. 

3.  Labor  gathers  the  gossamer  web  of  the  caterpillar, 
the  cotton  from  the  field,  and  the  fleece  from  the  flock, 
and  weaves  them  into  raiment,  soft,  and  warm,  and  beau- 
tiful,—  the  purple  robe  of  the  prince,  and  the  gray  gown 

47 


48  SANDERS*  UNION  SERIES. 

of  the  peasant,  being  alike  its  handiwork.  Labor  molds 
the  brick,  splits  the  slate,  quarries  the  stone,  shapes  the 
column,  and  rears,  not  only  the  humble  cottage,  but  the 
gorgeous  palace,  the  tapering  spire,  and  the  stately  dome. 

4.  Labor,  diving  deep  into  the  solid  earth,  brings  up  its 
long-hidden  stores  of  coal,  to  feed  ten  thousand  furnaces, 
and,  in  millions  of  habitations,  to  defy  the  winter's  cold. 
Labor  explores  the  rich  veins  of  deeply-buried  rocks,  ex- 
tracting the  gold,  the  silver,  the  copper,  the  tin,  and  the 
oil.  Labor  smelts  the  iron,  and  molds  it  into  a  thousand 
shapes  for  use  and  ornament, — from  the  massive  pillar  to 
the  tiniest  needle,  —  from  the  ponderous  anchor  to  the 
wire-gauze,  —  from  the  mighty  fly-wheel  of  the  steam- 
engine  to  the  polished  purse-ring  or  the  glittering  bead. 

5.  Labor  hews  down  the  gnarled  oak,  shapes  the  tim- 
ber, builds  the  ship,  and  guides  it  over  the  deep,  plunging 
through  the  billows,  and  wrestling  wdth  the  tempest,  to 
bear  to  our  shores  the  produce  of  every  clime.  Labor 
brings  us  India  spices  and  American  cotton ;  African  ivory 
and  Greenland  oil ;  fruits  from  the  sunny  South,  and  furs 
from  the  frozen  North  ;  tea  from  the  East,  and  sugar  from 
the  West ;  carrying,  in  exchange,  to  every  land,  the  prod- 
ucts of  industry  and  skill.  Labor,  by  the  universally- 
spread  ramifications  of  trade,  distributes  its  own  treasures 
from  country  to  country,  from  city  to  city,  from  house  to 
house,  conveying  to  the  doors  of  all,  the  necessaries  and 
luxuries  of  life  ;  and,  by  the  pulsations  of  an  untrammeled 
commerce,  maintaining  healthy  life  in  the  great  social 
system. 

6.  Labor,  fusing  opaque  particles  of  rock,  produces 
transparent  glass,  which  it  molds,  and  polishes,  and  com- 
bines so  wondrously,  that  sight  is  restored  to  the  blind ; 
while  worlds,  before  invisible  from  distance,  are  brought  so 


UNION   FIFTH   READER.  49 

near  as  to  be  weighed  and  measured  with  an  unerring  ex- 
actness ;  and  atoms,  which  had  escaped  all  detection  from 
minuteness,  reveal  a  world  of  wonder  and  beauty  in  them- 
selves. Labor,  laughing  at  difihculties,  spans  majestic  riv- 
ers, carries  viaducts^  over  marshy  swamps,  suspends  aerial 
bridges  above  deep  ravines,  pierces  the  solid  mountain  with 
its  dark,  undeviating  tunnel,  —  blasting  rocks  and  filling 
hollows ;  and,  while  linking  together  with  its  iron  but  lov- 
ing grasp  all  nations  of  the  earth,  verifying,  in  a  literal 
sense,  the  ancient  prophecy,  "  Every  valley  shall  be  exalted, 
and  every  mountain  and  hill  shall  be  made  low."* 

7.  Labor  draws  forth  its  delicate  iron  thread,  and,  stretch- 
ing it  from  city  to  city,  from  province  to  province,  through 
mountains,  and  beneath  the  sea,  realizes  more  than  fancy 
ever  fabled,  while  it  constructs  a  chariot  on  which  speech 
may  outstrip  the  wind,  compete  with  the  lightning,  and  fly 
as  rapidly  as  thought  itself.  Labor  seizes  the  thoughts  of 
Genius,  the  discoveries  of  Science,  the  admonitions  of  Piety, 
and,  with  its  magic  types  impressing  the  vacant  page,  ren- 
ders it  pregnant  with  life  and  power,  perpetuating  truth 
to  distant  acres,  and  diffusino-  it  to  all  mankind.  Labor  sits 
enthroned  in  Palaces  of  Crystal,  whose  high-arched  roofs 
proudly  sparkle  in  the  sunshine  which  delighteth  to  honor 
it,  and  whose  ample  courts  are  crowded  with  the  trophies 
of  its  victories  in  every  country,  and  in  every  age. 

8.  Labor,  a  mighty  Magician,  walks  forth  into  a  region 
uninhabited  and  waste :  he  looks  earnestly  at  the  scene,  so 
quiet  in  its  desolation  ;  then,  waving  his  wonder-workinor 
\vand,f  those  dreary  valleys  smile  with  golden  harvests; 

*  Isa.,  40th  chap.,  4th  verse. 

t  In  the  phrase,  "  Waving  his  wonder-working  wand,"  the  reader  will  notice 
a  beautiful  example  of  alliteration.  Alliteration  is  the  repetition  of  the  same 
letter  at  the  commencement  of  two  or  more  words,  immediately  succeeding 
each  other,  or  at  short  intervals. 

3 


50  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

those  barren  mountain  slopes  are  clothed  with  foliage ;  the 
furnace  blazes ;  the  anvil  rings ;  the  busy  wheels  whirl 
round;  the  town  appears,  —  the  mart  of  Commerce,  the 
hall  of  Science,  the  temple  of  Religion,  rear  high  their  lofty- 
fronts;  a  forest  of  masts,  gay  with  varied  pennons,  rises 
from  the  harbor ;  the  wharves  are  crowded  with  commer- 
cial spoils,  —  the  peaceful  spoils  which  enrich  both  him 
who  receives  and  him  who  yields. 

9.  Representatives  of  far-off  regions  make  it  their  re- 
sort ;  Science  enlists  the  elements  of  earth  and  heaven  in 
its  service ;  Art,  awaking,  clothes  its  strength  with  beauty ; 
Literature,  newborn,  redoubles  and  perpetuates  its  praise ; 
Civilization  smiles  ;  Liberty  is  glad ;  Humanity  rejoices  ; 
Piety  exults,  —  for  the  voice  of  Industry  and  Gladness  is 
heard  on  every  hand.  And  who^  contemplating  such 
achievements^  will  deny  that  there  is  dignity  in  labor  ? 


LESSON    IL 

*  Tel'e  scope,  (TELE,^r  off;  SCOPE,  view  or  sight,)  an  instrument  to  view 

things  far  off. 
-  Mi' CRO  SCOPE,  (micro,  small;  scope,  view  or  sight,)  an  instrument  to 

view  things  minute  or  small. 
'  Tel'e  graph,  (tele,  /ar  off;  graph,  urriting  or  marking,)  a  machine  to 

convey  news  far  off.     See  Sanders'  Union  Speller,  pages  146,  147. 

POWERS   OF  THE   HAND. 

dr.  GEORGE  WILSON. 

IN  many  respects,  the  organ  of  touch,  as  embodied  in  tho 
hand,  is  the  most  wonderful  of  the  senses.  The  organs 
of  the  other  senses  are  passive  :  the  organ  of  touch  alone  is 
active.     The  eye,  the  ear,  and  the  nostril,  stand  simply 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  51 

open :  Hglit,  sound,  and  fragrance  enter,  and  we  are  com- 
pelled to  see,  to  hear,  and  to  smell ;  but  tlie  hand  selects 
what  it  shall  touch,  and  touches  what  it  pleases.  It  puts 
away  from  it  the  things  w^hich  it  hates,  and  beckons  toward 
it  the  things  which  it  desires ;  unlike  the  eye,  which  must 
often  gaze  transfixed  at  horrible  sights  from  which  it  can 
not  turn  ;  and  the  ear,  which  can  not  escape  from  the  tort- 
ure of  discordant  sounds;  and  the  nostril,  which  can  not 
protect  itself  from  unpleasant  odors. ' 

2.  Moreover,  the  hand  cares  not  only  for  its  own  wants, 
but,  when  the  other  organs  of  the  senses  are  rendered  use- 
less, takes  their  duties  upon  it.  The  hand  of  the  blind 
man  goes  with  him  as  an  eye  through  the  streets,  and  safely 
threads  for  him  all  the  devious  way.  It  looks  for  him  at 
the  faces  of  his  friends,  and  tells  him  whose  kindly  features 
are  gazing  on  him.  It  peruses  books  for  him,  and  quickens 
the  long  and  tedious  hours  by  its  silent  readings.  It  min- 
isters as  Avillingly  to  the  deaf;  and  when  the  tongue  is 
dumb,  and  the  ear  stopped,  its  fingers  speak  eloquently  to 
the  eye,  and  enable  it  to  discharge  the  unwonted  office  of 
a  listener. 

3.  The  organs  of  all  the  other  senses,  also,  even  in  their 
greatest  perfection,  are  beholden  to  the  hand  for  the  en- 
hancement and  the  exaltation  of  their  powers.  It  con- 
structs for  the  eye  a  copy  of  itself,  and  thus  gives  it  a 
telescope^  with  which  to  range  among  the  stars  ;  and  by 
another  copy  on  a  slightly  different  plan,  furnishes  it  with 
a  microscope^  and  introduces  it  into  a  new  world  of  won- 
ders. It  constructs  for  the  ear  the  instruments  by  which  it 
is  educated,  and  sounds  them  in  its  hearing  till  its  powers 
are  trained  to  the  full.  It  plucks  for  the  nostril  the  flower 
whose  odors  it  delights  to  inhale,  and  distills  for  it  the  fra- 
grance which  it  covets. 


52  SANDERS'  UNION  SEEIES. 

4.  As  for  the  tongue,  if  it  had  not  the  hand  to  serve 
it,  it  might  abdicate  its  throne  as  the  lord  of  Taste.  In 
short,  the  organ  of  touch  is  the  minister  of  its  sister  senses, 
and  is  the  handmaid  of  them  all.  And,  if  the  hand  tlms 
mnnificently  serves  the  body,  not  less  amply  does  it  give 
expression  to  the  genius  and  the  wit,  the  courage  and  the 
affection,  the  will  and  the  power,  of  man.  Put  a  sword 
into  it,  and  it  w^ill  fight  for  him-;  put  a  plow  into  it,  and  it 
will  till  for  him ;  put  a  harp  into  it,  and  it  will  play  for 
him  ;  put  a  pencil  into  it,  and  it  will  paint  for  him  ;  put  a 
pen  into  it,  and  it  will  speak  for  him,  plead  for  him,  pray 
for  him.     What  will  it  not  do  ?     What  has  it  not  done  ? 

5.  A  steam-engine  is  but  a  larger  hand,  made  to  extend 
its  powers  by  the  little  hand  of  man  !  An  electric  tele- 
graph^ is  but  a  long  pen  for  that  little  hand  to  write  with] 
All  our  huge  cannons  and  other  weapons  of  w^ar,  with 
which  we  conquer  our  enemies,  are  but  the  productions 
of  the  wonder-working  hand  !  What,  moreover,  is  a  ship, 
a  railway,  a  lighthouse,  or  a  palace,  —  what,  indeed,  is  a 
whole  city,  a  whole  continent  of  cities,  all  the  cities  of 
the  globe,  nay,  the  very  globe  itself,  in  so  far  as  man  has 
changed  it,  but  the  work  of  that  giant  hand^  with  wdiich 
the  human  race,  acting  as  one  mighty  man,  has  executed 
its  will  ! 

6.  When  I  think  of  all  that  man  and  w^oman's  hand  has 
wrought,  from  the  day  when  Eve  put  forth  her  erring  hand 
to  pluck  the  fruit  of  the  forbidden  tree,  to  that  dark  hour 
when  the  pierced  hands  of  the  Savior  of  the  world  were 
nailed  to  the  predicted  tree  of  shame,  and  of  all  that  human 
hands  have  done  of  good  and  evil  since,  I  lift  up  my  hand, 
and  gaze  upon  it  with  wonder  and  awe.  What  an  instini- 
ment  for  good  it  is !  What  an  instrument  for  evil !  and 
all  the  day  long  it  is  never  idle.     There  is  no  implement 


UNION  FIFTH  BEADER.  53 

which  it  can  not  wield,  and  it  should  never,  in  working 
hours,  be  without  one. 

7.  We  unwisely  restrict  the  term  handicraftsman,  or 
hand-worker,  to  the  more  laborious  callings ;  but  it  be- 
longs to  all  honest,  earnest  men  and  women,  and  is  a  title 
which  each  should  covet.  For  the  queen's  hand  there  is 
the  scepter,  and  for  the  soldier's  hand  the  sword  ;  for  the 
carpenter's  hand  the  saw,  and  for  the  smith's  hand  the 
hammer  ;  for  the  farmer's  hand  the  plow ;  for  the  miner's 
hand  the  spade ;  for  the  sailor's  hand  the  oar ;  for  the 
painter's  hand  the  brush ;  for  the  sculptor's  hand  the 
chisel ;  for  the  poet's  hand  the  pen ;  and  for  Avoman's  hand 
the  needle.  But  for  all  there  is  the  command,  "  Whatso- 
ever thy  handfindeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might, ''^  * 


LESSON   III. 
THERE'S  WORK  ENOUGH  TO  DO. 

ANON. 

1.  rriHE  blackbird  early  leaves  its  rest 
X     To  meet  the  smiling  morn, 
And  gather  fragments  for  its  nest, 

From  upland,  wood,  and  lawn. 
The  busy  bee,  that  wings  its  way 

'Mid  sweets  of  varied  hue, 
At  every  flower  would  seem  to  say, 

"•There's  work  enough  to  do.^^ 

2.  The  cowslip  and  the  spreading  vine, 

The  daisy  in  the  grass, 

♦  Eccl.,  9th  chap.,  10th  verse. 


54  SANDERS'  UNION    SERIES. 

The  snow-drop  and  tlie  eglantine, 
Preach  sermons  as  we  pass. 

The  ant,  within  its  cavern  deep, 
Would  bid  us  labor  too, 

And  writes  upon  its  tiny  heap, 
"There's  work  enough  to  do.^^ 

3.  The  planets,  at  their  Maker's  will, 

Move  onward  in  their  cars ; 
For  nature's  wheel  is  never  still, — 

Progressive  as  the  stars  ! 
The  leaves  that  flutter  in  the  air, 

And  summer  breezes  woo. 
One  solemn  truth  to  man  declare, 

''''There's  ivork  enough  to  do^ 

4.  Who  then  can  sleep,  when  all  around 
(<  )     Is  active,  fresh,  and  free  ? 

Shall  Man,  creation's  lord,  be  found 
Less  busy  than  the  bee'? 

Oar  courts  and  alley's  are  the  field. 
If  men  would  search  them  through, 

That  best  the  sweets  of  labor  yield, 
And  "  work  enough  to  do^ 

6.  The  time  is  short,  —  the  world  is  wide. 

And  much  has  to  be  done  ; 
This  wondrous  earth,  and  all  its  pride. 

Will  vanish  with  the  sun  ! 
The  moments  flv  on  lightning's  winirs. 

And  life's  uncertain  too  ; 
We've  none  to  waste  on  foolish  thino-s, 

"There'' s  ivork  enough  to  do^^ 


UNION  FIFTH  READEB.  65 

LESSON    IV. 
FIELDS    FOR    LABOR. 

1.  TF  you  can  not  on  the  ocean 
JL    Sail  among  the  swiftest  fleet, 
Rocking  on  the  highest  billows, 

Laughing  at  the  storms  you  meet, 
You  can  stand  among  the  sailors, 

Anchored  yet  within  the  bay. 
You  can  lend  a  hand  to  help  them 

As  they  launch  their  boats  away. 

2.  If  you  are  too  weak  to  journey 

Up  the  mountain  steep  and  high, 
You  can  stand  within  the  valley 

While  the  multitudes  go  by ; 
You  can  chant  in  happy  measures 

As  they  slowly  pass  along ; 
Though  they  may  forget  the  singer, 

They  will  not  forget  the  song. 

3.  If  you  have  not  gold  or  silver 

Ever  ready  to  command. 
If  you  can  not  toward  the  needy 

Reach  an  ever-open  hand, 
You  can  visit  the  afflicted. 

O'er  the  erring  you  can  weep ; 
You  can  be  a  true  disciple 

Sitting  at  the  Master's  feet. 

4.  If  you  can  not  in  the  conflict 

Prove  yourself  a  soldier  true, 


66  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

If,  where  fire  and  smoke  are  thickest, 
There's  no  Avork  for  you  to  do, 

When  the  battle-field  is  silent 
You  can  go  with  careful  tread. 

You  can  bear  away  the  wounded. 
You  can  cover  up  the  dead. 

6.  Do  not  then  stand  idly  waiting 
For  some  greater  work  to  do : 

Fortune  is  a  lazy  goddess, 
She  will  never  come  to  you. 

Go  and  toil  in  any  vineyard, 

.  Do  not  fear  to  do  or  dare ; 

If  you  want  a  field  of  labor, 
You  can  find  it  anywhere. 


LESSON    V. 

*  Hel'  I  CON,  a  monntain  in  Bceotia,  Greece,  supposed  by  the  Greeks  to  be 
the  residence  of  Apollo  and  the  Muses. 

A  pol'  lo,  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  was  the  presiding  deity  of  arch- 
ery, prophecy,  music,  and  medicine ;  and  president  and  protector  of  the 
Muses. 

My'  SES,  the  fabled  goddesses  who  presided  over  literary,  artistic,  and  scien- 
tific matters  and  labors ;  the  geniuses  of  art,  literature,  or  music. 

WHERE  THERE'S  A  WILL,  THERE'S  A  WAY. 

J.  Go  SAXE. 

1.    TT  was  a  noble  Roman, 
X    In  Rome's  imperial  day. 
Who  heard  a  coward  croaker, 
Before  the  castle,  say. 


tTNION  FIFTH  EEADEB.  57 

*'  They  're  safe  in  such  a  fortress ; 

There  is  no  way  to  shake  it !  " 
"(?m/  on  !  "  exclaimed  the  hero, 

'' Pll  find  a  way^  or  make  it!  " 

2.  Is  Fame  your  aspiration'  ? 

Her  path  is  steep  and  high ; 
In  vain  you  seek  her  temple, 

Content  to  gaze  and  sigh  : 
The  shining  throne  is  waiting, 

But  he  alone  can  take  it, 
Who  says,  with  Roman  firmness, 

"  Fll  find  a  way^  or  make  it  /  " 

3.  Is  Learning  your  ambition'? 

There  is  no  royal  road ; 
Alike  the  peer  and  peasant 

Must  climb  to  her  abode  ; 
Who  feels  the  thirst  for  knowledge 

In  Helicon^  may  slake  it, 
If  he  has  still  the  Roman  will, 

To  ''find  a  way,  or  make  it! " 

4.  Are  Riches  worth  the  getting'  ? 

They  must  be  bravely  sought ; 
With  wishing  and  with  fretting. 

The  boon  can  not  be  bought ; 
To  all  the  prize  is  open. 

But  only  he  can  take  it. 
Who  says,  with  Roman  courage, 

"I'll  find  a  way,  or  make  it!  " 

Question.  —  What  rule  for  the  rising  inflections,  as  marked  at  the  first 
line  in  the  2d,  3d,  and  4th  stanzas  ?     See  page  28. 


58  SANDEES'  UKION  SEEIES. 


LESSON   YI. 

*  Curl'  er,  a  player  at  the  game  called  curling,  which  consists  in  propelling 
by  the  hand  a  heavy  weight,  as  a  large  stone  or  mass  of  iron,  along  the 
surface  of  the  ice,  so  as  to  strike  another  heavy  weight,  and  drive  it  in 
any  given  direction. 

THE  OFFICES   OF  MEMORY. 

ISLAY    BURNS. 

MAN  alone,  of  all  the  creatures  on  the  earth,  carries 
about  with  him  a  three-fold  life.  He  exists  at  once 
in  the  past^  in  t\\Q  present^  and  in  the  future.  Memory,  on 
the  one  hand,  and  hope,  on  the  other,  reveal,  each  of  them, 
a  world  of  its  own,  besides  the  world  of  real  passing  ex- 
istence, and  in  all  these  worlds  every  one  of  us  lives.  The 
one  looks  backward,  the  other  forward  ;  the  one  lives  in 
yesterday,  the  other  in  to-morrow.  The  one  watches  the 
setting  sun  of  the  past,  the  other  salutes  the  dawning  morn 
of  the  future.  Hope,  in  short,  sanguine  and  light-hearted, 
builds  airy  castles  in  the  future  sky ;  memory  wanders, 
thoughtful  and  sad,  amid  the  moldering  ruins  and  withered 
leaves  of  the  past. 

2.  You  have  all  a  great  deal  to  do,  my  young  friends, 
with  memory.  Every  day  you  have  to  make  use  of  it,  if 
in  no  other  way,  at  least,  in  the  learning  of  those  appoiiited 
tasks,  in  which  now  the  main  business  of  your  life  consists. 
You  have,  in  fact,  as  much  to  do  with  your  memory,  as 
the  workman  has  to  do  with  his  tools,  and  should,  therefore, 
not  only  know  a  great  deal  about  it,  but  be  interested  to 
know  more.  Bat  it  may  be,  that  while  daily  using,  you 
have  not  thought  enough  of  this  wondrous  gift  of  God,  — 
of  its  nature,  its  uses,  its  reponsibilities,  its  blessings.  What 
then  is  the  memory  ? 

3.  Memory  is  an  Historian.  —  Every  human  being, 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  59 

like  every  nation,  has  his  history,  and  memory  writes  that 
liistory.  Each  of  you  has  a  history,  and  memory  is  writ- 
ino"  it.  It  sits  alone  and  silent  within  your  bosom,  and 
writes.  With  quick,  observant  eye  it  watches  all  that  is 
passing  around,  hears  every  word,  marks  every  deed,  and, 
with  busy  hand,  transfers  it  to  its  secret  register.  It  makes 
no  remark  on  what  it  sees  or  hears,  gives  no  sign  either  of 
approval  or  of  blame,  but  simply  marks  and  records.  It 
says  nothing,  but  writes  every  thing. 

4.  Would  you  not  start  sometimes  if  you  saw  a  silent 
stranger  always  watching  you,  a  glistening  eye  always 
upon  you,  a  quick  hand  writing  all  about  you'  ?  And  yet 
this  is  what  your  own  memory  is  doing  every  hour.  Day 
after  day  it  pursues  this  task  unceasingly.  Page  after  page 
is  filled  with  the  mystic  writing,  and  the  great  volume 
grows,  slowly  but  steadily.  Each  day  completes  a  page, 
each  year  a  chapter,  each  successive  stage  in  life  a  volume, 
of  the  awful  scroll.  Sometimes  it  is  written  in  faint  dim 
lines,  sometimes  in  broad  glaring  characters,  sometimes  in 
letters  of  light,  aud  sometimes  of  inky  blackness. 

5.  There  are  black  days  and  white  days,  —  days  bright 
with  blessing,  and  days  dark  with  woe  and  sin,  as  in  our 
real  life,  so  in  this  its  faithful  register.  How  interesting, 
then,  mu.^t  this  history  be  !  What  tale  to  me  so  absorbing 
and  so  instructive  as  that  which  is  all  about  myself !  What 
stirring  incidents  too,  and  thrilling  scenes,  does  the  life 
even  of  the  humblest  often  present !  what  vicissitudes  of 
joy  and  sorrow,  light  and  darkness  !  what  touches  of 
pathos  and  bursts  of  passion !  what  agonies,  and  battles, 
and  wounds  ! 

6.  Memory  is  a  Painter. — It  not  only  makes  notes 
of  the  past,  but  pictures  of  the  past.  It  photographs  the 
events  and  scenes  of  the  passing  hour,  and  preserves  them 


60  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

in  its  faithful  volume  for  evermore.  The  history  of  our 
life,  which  memory  is  writing,  is  an  illustrated  history,  — 
in  which  there  are  not  only  the  printed  words,  but  the  li  vino- 
faces  and  forms  of  the  men  and  things  we  read  about.  An 
illustrated  Jdstory  memory  is  now  writing  of  you,  only  that 
in  your  history  the  facts  are  all  true,  and  the  pictures  are 
all  drawn  fresh  from  the  life.  Or,  I  miglit  say,  that  your 
mind  is  a  chamber  hung  all  round  with  pictures,  —  and  it 
is  memory  that  drew  those  pictures,  and  is  always  standing 
by  to  explain  them,  and  to  tell  you  all  about  them. 

7.  Every  one  of  you  has  already  a  great  many  of  these 
pictures  in  his  heart.  Here  is  your  mother's  face,  which 
you  can  still  look  at,  when  away  from  home,  and  see  her 
looking  at,  and  smiling  on  you.  Here  is  a  brother  or  a 
sister,  now  far  away  in  a  distant  land,  and  whom  you  may 
never  see,  save  in  the  heart's  living  pictures,  in  this  world 
again.  Here  is  your  old  school,  and  your  old  play-ground, 
and  the  merry  faces  and  forms  of  your  old  playmates. 

8.  Here  is  the  pleasant  cottage  on  the  coast,  where  you 
spent  last  summer, — Avith  the  fair  woodegl  shore,  the  bright 
sea,  the  boats,  and  the  ships.  Here  are  the  great  snow- 
wreaths  of  last  winter,  and  the  misty  lake,  and  the  skaters, 
and  the  curlers.^  (i^^O  And  here  is  your  little  brother's 
grave,  —  and  here  is  his  own  fair  form  as  he  lay  silent  in 
his  coffin  before  its  lid  was  closed  forever !  Yes ;  you 
can  see  him  yet, — you  can  stand  by  once  more, — you  can 
lay  your  hand  on  the  cold  marble  brow,  and  gently,  rever- 
ently,  touch  the  golden  locks  that  cluster  around  it !  What 
a  wonderful  thing,  then,  is  memory!  How  kind  it  is  of 
God  to  bestow  upon  us  such  a  faculty ! 

9.  We  have  all  of  us  our  family  Album,  containing  the 
faces  and  forms  of  those  whom  we  know  and  love.  But 
we  sometimes  forget  that  every  one  of  us  has  his  own  per- 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  61 

sonal  album,  too,  laid  up  within  the  secret  chamber  of  his 
heart,  and  which  no  hand  can  unclasp,  no  eye  can  look 
upon,  but  his  own.  Oh  !  it  is  pleasant  sometimes  to  close- 
one's  eyes,  and,  in  the  calm,  bright,  holy  light  of  the  heart, 
look  at  those  pictures  one  by  one ! 

10.  Memory  i3  a  Treasurer.  —  It  is  the  soul's  wise 
and  careful  store-keeper,  gathering  together  from  day  to 
day  all  manner  of  precious  and  useful  things,  and  safely 
keeping  them.  Useful  facts,  wise  maxims  and  rules,  pre- 
cious and  holy  truths,  improving  examples,  sacred  memo- 
ries of  home  and  friends,  and  kind,  loving  looks  and  words, 
—  all  these  this  wondrous  faculty  catches  up,  and  keeps, 
and  stores  away,  that  they  may  minister  to  the  use  or  the 
blessing  of  future  days. 

11.  Thus  we  become  truly  rich, — -rich  in  the  treasures 
and  hived  stores  of  the  memory;  and  truly  there  is  no 
kind  of  riches  like  them,  except  one,  and  that  is  better 
still,  — ^^the  treasures  of  the  heart,  the  treasures  of  holy  feel- 
ing and  affection.  Are  you  rapidly  gathering  such  a  treas- 
ure ?  Now  is  the  time  to  do  it.  The  great  faculty  of 
youth  is  the  memory/,  and  the  great  business  of  youth  is  the 
use  of  the  memory.  You  are  now  taking  in  stock, —  gath- 
ering all  manner  of  valuable  stores,  which  you  will  learn 
to  arrange,  and  turn  to  use  in  after  years. 

12.  Memory  is  a  Comforter,  and  a  Reprover.  —  It 
is  a  most  sweet  comforter,  and  a  most  sharp  and  terrible 
repfover.  And  how  does  it  comfort  or  reprove  ?  Just  by 
opening  its  book  again,  and  reading  out  what  is  written 
there.  When  one  page  of  the  book  is  finished,  it  is  turned 
over,  and  another  is  begun  ;  but  the  folded  page  may  be 
turned  up  again,  and  laid  open  before  our  eyes.  I  said 
there  are  bright  pages  and  dark  pages  in  memory's  book. 
It  comforts  us  by  turning  up  the  one,  —  it  rebukes  us  by 
turning  up  the  other. 


62  SANDERS'  tTNION  SEHIES. 

13.  MaJce  good  use  of  your  memory.  N'ow  is  the  time 
to  do  it.  Youth  is  tlie  time  for  remembering.  In  youth 
we  remember  most  easily,  and  we  longest  retain  what  we 
have  learned.  Facts  early  learned,  lessons  early  taught, 
impressions  early  received,  solemn  seasons  and  scenes  early 
witnessed,  live  on  in  the  memory  through  a  lifetime,  and 
retain  all  their  vivid  freshness  and  reality,  when  the  things 
of  intervening  years  are  forgotten. 

14.  Never  do  anything  which  you  would  like  to  forget. 
There  are  things  wliich  people  would  fain  forget,  but  can 
not ;  dark  pages  and  frightful  pictures  in  the  book  of  mem- 
ory, which  they  would  fain  cover  up  from  sight  forever, 
but  which  will  not  be  covered  up,  but  wliich  keep  turning 
up  ever  afresh  before  their  eyes.  Tlie  things  we  would 
fain  forget,  are  those  very  things  we  are  most  sure  to 
remember.  And,  even  though  it  were  not  so  in  this 
world,  there  is  a  day  coming,  when  all  "  the  books  shall 
be  opened,"  and  when  "  God  shall  bring  every  work  into 
judgment,  with  every  secret  thing,  whether  it  be  good,  or 
whether  it  be  evil."  * 


LESSON   YII. 

*  Sym'  pa  thize,  (sym,  tor/ether  or  with;  vxTVi,feding ;  IZE,  to  make,  have;) 

to  have  a  common  feeling,  or  fellow-feeling. 
t  Re'tro  spect,  (retro,  back;  spect,  view;  a  looking;)  a  looking  back  en 

things  past. 

THE  MEMORY  OF  JOY. 

GREENWOOD. 

HOW  bountifully  gifted  is  man  !     He  lives  not  only  in 
t\\Q  present^  but  in  \\\q  past  Sind  future.     The  days  of 
his  childhood  belong  to  him,  even  when  his  hair  is  white 
*  Eccl.,  12th  chap.,  14th  verse. 


TTNION  FIFTH  READER.  63 

and  his  eyes  are  clouded  ;  and  Heaven  itself  may  open  on 
his  vision,  while  he  is  wanderino;  amono*  the  shadows  of 
earth,  and  dwelling  in  a  tabernacle  of  clay.  He  may  look 
hack  to  the  rosy  dawn  and  faint  glimmerings  of  his  intel- 
lectual day,  and  forward  till  his  unchecked  sight  discerns 
the  dwelling-place  of  God,  and  grows  familiar  with  eter- 
nity. 

2.  The  greater  part  of  our  mental  pleasures  is  drawn 
from  the  sources  of  memory  and  hope  ;  for,  while  Hope  is 
constantly  adorning  the  future  w^ith  her  fresh  colors  and 
bright  images.  Memory  is  as  active  in  bringing  back  to  us 
the  joys  of  the  past.  But  Hope  and  Memory  are  to  be 
consulted  on  the  real  business,  as  well  as  the  meditative 
delights,  of  existence  ;  for,  what  would  be  the  excitement 
of  labor  without  the  encouragements  of  Hope  ?  and  where 
could  Experience  go  for  his  treasures,  if  the  storehouse  of 
Memory  should  fail  ? 

3.  Let  us  attend  to  the  instructive  voice  of  Memory. 
Let  us  lend  a  careful  ear  to  the  moral  of  her  tales.  Let 
us,  like  the  Psalmist,  when  we  remember  the  days  of  old, 
hallow  our  reminiscences  by  meditating  on  the  works  of 
God,  —  by  tracing  the  hand  of  a  merciful  Providence 
through  the  varied  fortunes  of  our  course. 

4.  The  memory  of  joy  reaches  far  hack  in  the  annals  of 
every  one's  life.  Indeed,  there  are  many  who  persuade 
themselves  that  they  never  experienced  true  pleasure,  ex- 
cept in  the  earliest  stages  of  their  career ;  who  complain 
that,  when  the  hours  of  childhood  flew  away,  they  bore  off 
the  best  joys  of  life  upon  their  wings,  leaving  passion  to  be 
the  minister  of  youth,  and  care  to  be  the  portion  of  man- 
hood, and  regret  and  pain  to  drag  old  age  into  the  grave. 

5.  I  can  not  sympathize^  in  these  gloomy  views.  I  con- 
sider them  in  a  high  degree  unjust  to  the  happiness  which 


64  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

God  has  spread  out  liberally  through  every  division  of  our 
days,  and  wliich  can  be  missed  or  forfeited  in  hardly  any 
other  manner  than  through  our  willful  sins.  But  I  do  not 
the  less  share  the  visions  and  participate  in  the  pleasures 
of  those  who  love  to  retrace  the  green  paths  of  their  early 
years,  and  refresh  their  hearts  with  the  retrospect^  of  guile- 
less innocence,  of  sun-bright  hopes,  of  delights  that  the 
merest  trifle  could  purchase,  and  of  tears  that  any  kind 
hand  could  wipe  away. 

6.  How  many  scenes  exist  in  the  remembrance  of  each 
one  of  us,  soft,  and  dim,  and  sacred,  beyond  the  painter's 
art  to  copy,  but  hung  up,  as  in  an  ancient  gallery,  for  the 
visits  and  contemplation  of  our  maturer  minds  !  Mellowed 
they  are,  and  graced,  like  other  pictures,  by  the  slow  and 
tasteful  hand  of  Time. 

7.  The  groves,  through  which  we  ran  as  free  as  our 
playmate,  the  wind,  wave  with  a  more  graceful  foliage, 
and  throw  a  purer  shade :  the  ways  which  our  young  feet 
trod,  have  lost  their  ruggedness,  and  are  bordered  every- 
where with  flowers  ;  and  no  architecture  that  we  have 
since  seen,  though  we  may  have  wandered  through  kings' 
palaces,  can  equal  the  beauty  of  the  doors  which  our  hands 
first  learned  to  open,  and  of  the  apartments  which  once 
rang  with  the  echoes  of  our  childish  glee. 

8.  There  was  joy  in  our  hearts  when  ive  first  began  to 
take  a  part  in  the  serious  business  of  life,  and  felt  that  we 
were  qualifying  ourselves  for  a  station  —  perhaps  an  hon- 
orable one  —  among  our  seniors.  We  were  joyful  when 
we  won  the  prize  of  exertion,  or  received  the  praise  and 
the  smiles  of  those  whose  praise  and  smiles  were  worth  to 
us  more  than  any  other  reward.  Joy  was  our  companion 
when  we  first  went  out  a  little  way  upon  the  broad  face  of 
the  Earth,  and  saw  how  fair  and  grand  she  was,  covered 


ITNION  FIFTH  READER.  65 

with  noble  cities,  and  artful  monuments,  and  various  pro- 
ductions, and  the  busy  tribes  of  men.  Joy  came  with 
friendship,  and  affection,  and  confidence,  and  the  pure 
interchano;e  of  liearts  and  thoughts. 

9.  And  more  than  tliis,  we  were  joyful  when  we  were 
virtuous  and  useful ;  when  we  strove  against  a  besetting 
temptation,  and  knew  that  our  spirit  was  strong  to  subdue 
it ;  when  Ave  came  out  boldly,  and  denounced  injustice,  and 
defended  the  right ;  when  w^e  gave  up  a  selfish  gratifica- 
tion, and  received  a  blessing ;  wdien  we  forbore  to  speak 
ill  of  a  rival,  though  by  so  doing  we  might  have  advanced 
our  own  claims  ;  when  w^e  dismissed  envy  from  our  bosoms, 
and  made  it  give  place  to  a  generous  admiration  ;  when  we 
forgave  an  enemy,  and  prayed  from  our  hearts  that  God 
might  forgive  him  too ;  when  we  stretched  out  a  willing 
hand  to  heal,  to  help,  to  guide,  to  protect,  to  save ;  in 
short,  whenever  we  discharged  an  obligation  and  per- 
formed a  duty,  and  earned  the  approbation  of  conscience. 

10.  The  recollection  of  our  joys  will  show  us  how  henefi- 
cent  our  Creator  has  been  to  us,  in  furnishincr  each  age 
with  its  appropriate  pleasures,  and  filling  our  days  with  a 
variety,  as  well  as  a  multitude,  of  blessings.  It  will  teach 
us  to  keep  an  account  of  our  enjoyments,  and  to  avoid  the 
fault  of  those  who  minutely  reckon  up  their  pains  and  mis- 
fortunes, but  ungratefully  pass  over  the  kind  allotments  of 
Providence.  We  shall  find,  if  our  moral  taste  is  not  en- 
tirely perverted,  that  the  joys  wdiich  afford  the  greatest 
delight  to  our  memory,  are  those  which  flowed  in  child- 
hood from  its  innocence^  and,  in  after  life,  from  our  good 
deeds.  If  we  take  pleasure  in  recurring  to  the  innocence 
of  our  first  years,  let  At  be  our  watchful  care  to  retain  and 
preserve  it^  for  it  is  not  necessarily  destroyed  by  knowledge, 
nor  does  it  invariably  depart  at  the  approach  of  maturity. 

6 


G6  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

11.  A  similar  improvement  may  be  made  of  the  memory 
of  our  good  deeds.  We  should  use  all  diligence  in  adding 
to  their  store  ;  for,  if  they  are  now  the  most  precious  treas- 
ures of  the  soul,  they  certainly  will  not  diminish  in  price, 
when  the  common  enjoyments  of  life  are  losing  their  relish, 
and  its  bustle  no  longer  engages  us,  and  the  tide  of  our 
energies  is  fast  ebbing  away,  and  we  only  wait  for  the  sum- 
mons of  departure.  What  solace  is  there  to  an  aged  man 
like  the  memory  of  his  virtuous  actions?  What  medicine 
is  there  so  healing  to  his  wasted,  solitary  heart?  What 
ground  of  hope  is  there  so  sure  to  his  spirit,  next  to  the 
mercy  of  his  God  ? 


LESSON    VIII. 
THE   HOUSE  BY  THE  ROLLING  RIVER. 

LIXNA  SCHfCNK. 

1.  rpHERE  stood,  in  the  beautiful  olden  time, 
JL     A  house  by  the  rolling  river ; 
Behind  it  there  towered  a  bluff  old  hill, 
And  by  it  wandered  a  murmuring  rill. 

On  its  way  to  the  rolling  river. 

2.  'Twas  a  happy  house  in  the  olden  time, — 

That  house  by  the  rolling  river, 
And  happy  the  children  who  lived  in  it  then, 
Happier  far  than  they  can  be  again, 

In  the  house  by  the  rolling  river. 

3.  'Twas  beautiful,  too,  in  the  olden  time, — 

That  spot  by  the  rolling  river,  — 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  67 

With  the  maple  bough  shading  its  lowly  eaves, 
Where  the  little  ones  played  with  the  faUing  leaves, 
Near  by  the  rolling  river. 

4.  But  time  rolled  on  o'er  the  old  brown  house 

That  stood  by  the  rolling  river ; 
And  the  gray  rats  raced  through  the  crumbling  wall, 
And  the  wild  winds  wailed  through  the  vacant  hall. 

Of  the  house  by  the  rolling  river. 

5.  And  the  little  ones  all  have  passed  away 
(j^Z.)      From  the  house  by  the  rolHng  river ; 

"  Some  are  married  and  some  are  dead,  — 
All  are  scattered  now  and  fled  " 
Away  from  the  rolling  river. 

6.  On  a  'neath  southern  skies  is  sleeping. 

Far  from  the  rolling  river  ; 
And  none  can  weep  o'er  the  place  of  his  fall, — 
He  was  dearest  and  best  beloved  of  all 

In  the  house  by  the  rolling  river. 

7.  But  no2V  there  standeth  a  tow^n  in  its  pride, 

On  the  banks  of  the  rolling  river  ; 
The  whiz  of  the  mill-wheel  is  noisy  and  loud. 
And  the  church-spire  points  aloft  to  the  cloud, 

By  the  side  of  the  rolling  river. 

8.  And  the  busy  young  town  will  grow  old  in  its  time. 

That  stands  by  the  rolling  river ; 
The  spire  and  the  mill-wheel  will  go  to  decay. 
And  all  the  people  will  pass  away, 

That  dwell  by  the  rolling  river. 


68  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

9.  Thus  Time,  the  Destroyer,  shall  desolate  all 
That  stand  by  the  rolling  river ; 
But  not  until  time  shall  be  no  more, 
Will  the  wave  of  the  river  cease  to  roar, — 
The  beautiful,  rolling  river. 


LESSON    IX. 

This  piece  should  be  read  quite  slowly,  and  in  a  low  tone  of  voicb- 
THE  LIGHT  AT  HOME. 

1.  rpHE  Light  at  Home !  how  bright  it  beams 
X      When  evening  shades  around  us  fall. 
And  from  the  lattice  far  it  gleams. 

To  love,  and  rest,  and  comfort,  call ! 
When  wearied  with  the  toils  of  day, — 

The  strife  for  glory,  gold,  or  fame, 
LIow  sweet  to  seek  the  quiet  way, 

Where  loving  lips  will  lisp  our  name, 
Around  the  Light  at  Home! 

2.  When,  through  the  dark  and  stormy  night, 

The  wayward  wanderer  homeward  hies, 
How  cheering  is  that  twinkling  light 

.  Which  through  the  forest  gloom  he  spies! 
It  is  the  Light  at  Home,  —  he  feels 

That  loving  hearts  will  greet  him  there. 
And  softly  through  his  bosom  steals 
That  joy  and  love  which  banish  care, 
Around  the  Light  at  Home  ! 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  C9 

3.  The  Light  at  Home,  whene'er  at  last 

It  greets  the  seaman  through  the  storm, 
He  feels  no  more  tlie  chilling  blast 

That  beats  upon  his  manly  form. 
Long  years  upon  the  sea  have  fled, 

Since  last  he  saw  the  parting  light ; 
But  the  sad  tears  which  then  he  shed 

Will  now  be  paid  with  sweet  delight, 
Around  the  LigJit  at  Home  ! 

4.  The  Light  at  Home  !  how  still  and  sweet 

It  peeps  from  yonder  cottage  door,  — 
The  weary  laborer  to  greet,  — 

When  the  rough  toils  of  day  are  o'er ! 
Sad  is  the  soul  that  does  not  know 

The  blessings  that  its  beams  imjmrt,  -  - 
The  cheerful  hopes  and  joys  that  flow, 

And  lighten  up  the  heaviest  heart. 

Around  the  Light  at  Home. 


LESSON    X. 
THE   SOLDIER  BIRD  * 

II.   II.   BKOW>^EI.L. 

IN  the  spring  of  1881,  Chief  Sky,  a  Chippewa  Indian, 
living  in  the  northern  wilds  of  Wisconsin,  found  an 
eagle's  nest.  To  make  sure  of  his  prize  he  cut  the  tree 
down,  and  caught  the  eaglets  as  they  were  sliding  from  the 

■^•'  Col.  J.  W.  Jefferson,  who  led  the  valiant  Eighth  Wisconsin  Regiment 
in  the  Red  River  expedition,  has  given  a  similar  account  of  this  wonder/ul 
Bird ;  thus  corroborating  the  truthfulness  of  this  narrative. 


70  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

nest  to  run  and  hide  in  the  grass.  One  died.  He  carried 
the  other  home,  and  built  a  nest  in  a  tree  close  by  his  wig- 
wam. The  eaglet  was  as  large  as  a  hen,  and  covered  with 
soft  down.  The  red  children  were  delighted  with  their 
new  pet ;  and,  as  soon  as  he  became  acquainted,  he  would  sit 
down  in  the  grass,  and  see  them  play  with  the  dogs. 

2.  But  Chief  Sky  was  poor,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
soil  the  noble  bird  to  a  white  man  for  a  bushel  of  corn. 
The  white  man  brought  him  to  Eau  Claire,*  a  small  vil- 
lage, where  the  enlisted  soldiers  were  busy  in  preparing  to 
go  to  the  war.  "  Here  's  a  recruit,"  said  the  man.  "An 
EAGLE  !  AN  EAGLE  ! "  shoutcd  the  soldicrs :  "  Let  him 
ENLIST  ! "  and  sure  enough,  he  was  sw^orn  into  the  service, 
with  ribbons  around  his  neck,  —  red,  white,  and  blue. 

3.  On  a  perch  surmounted  by  stars  and  stripes,  the 
company  took  him  to  Madison,  the  Capital  of  the  State. 
As  they  marched  into  Camp  Randall,  with  colors  flying, 
drums  beating,  and  the  people  cheering,  the  eagle  seized 
the  flag  in  his  beak,  and  spread  his  wings,  his  bright  eye 
kindling  with  the  spirit  of  the  scene.  Shouts  rent  the 
air: — "The  Bird  of  Columbia!  the  Eagle  of  Free- 
dom FOREVER ! " 

4.  The  State  made  him  a  new  perch,  and  the  boys 
named  him  "  Old  Abe  ;"  and  the  Eighth^  Wisconsin  Regi- 
ment was  henceforth  called,  "  The  Eagle  Regiment."  On 
the  march  he  was  carried  at  the  head  of  the  company,  and 
everywhere  was  greeted  with  delight.  At  St.  Louis,  a 
gentleman  offered  five  hundred  dollars  for  him,  and  anoth- 
er his  farm.  No,  no ;  the  boys  had  no  notion  of  parting 
with  their  bird.  He  w^as  above  all  price,  —  an  emblem  of 
battle  and  of  victory.  Besides,  he  interested  their  minds, 
and  made  them  think  less  of  hardships  and  of  home. 

*  Pronounced  0  Claire. 


UNION   FIFTH  READER.  71 

5.  It  was  really  amusing  to  witness  the  strange  freaks 
and  droll  adventures  of  this  bird  during  his  three  years' 
service,  —  his  flights  in  the  air,  his  fights  with  the  guinea- 
hens,  and  his  race  with  the  boys.  When  the  regiment  was 
in  summer  quarters  at  Clear  Creek,  the  eagle  was  allowed 
to  run  at  large,  and  every  morning  went  to  the  river,  half 
a  mile  off,  where  he  splashed  and  played  in  the  water  to 
his  heart's  content,  faithfully  returning  to  camp  when  he 
was  satisfied. 

6.  Old  Abe's  favorite  place  of  resort  was  the  sutler's 
tent,  where  a  live  chicken  found  "  no  quarter  "  in  his  pres- 
ence. But  rations  became  scarce,  and,  for  two  days,  Abe 
had  nothing  to  eat.  Hard-tack  he  objected  to ;  fasting 
was  disagreeable  ;  and  Thomas,  his  bearer,  could  not  get 
beyond  the  pickets  to  a  farm-yard.  At  last,  pushing  his 
way  to  the  colonel's  tent,  he  pleaded  for  poor  Abe.  The 
colonel  gave  him  a  pass,  and  Thomas  procured  for  him  an 
excellent  dinner. 

7.  One  day  a  farmer  asked  Thomas  to  come  and  show 
the' eagle  to  his  children.  Satisfying  the  curiosity  of  the 
family,  Thomas  set  him  down  in  the  barn-yard.  Oh, 
what  a  screeching  and  scatterino;  amon^r  the  fowls  !  for 
Abe  pounced  upon  one,  and  gobbled  up  another,  to  the 
great  amazement  of  the  farmer,  who  declared  that  such 
wanton  behavior  was  not  in  the  bargain.  Abe,  however, 
thought  there  was  no  harm  in  "  confiscating  "  in  time  of 
war. 

8.  Abe  was  in  twenty  battles,  besides  thirty  skirmishes. 
He  was  at  the  siege  of  Vicksburg,  the  storming  of  Corinth, 
and  marched  with  Sherman  up  the  Red  River.  The  whiz 
of  bullets  and  the  scream  of  shells  were  his  delicrht.  As 
the  battle  grew  hotter  and  hotter,  he  would  flap  his  wings, 
and   mingle   his   wildest   notes  with   the   thundering  din 


72  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

around  him.  He  was  very  fond  of  music,  especially  Yan- 
kee Doodle  and  John  Brown.  Upon  parade  he  always 
gave  heed  to  the  word,  "  Attention  ! "  With  his  eye  on 
the  commander,  he  would  listen  and  obey  orders,  noting 
time  accurately.  After  parade  he  would  put  off  his  sol- 
dierly air,  flap  his  wings,  and  make  himself  at  home. 

9.  The  enemy  called  him  "  Yankee  Buzzard,"  "  Old 
Owl,"  and  other  hard  names  ;  but  his  eagle  nature  was 
quite  above  noticing  it.  One  General  gave  orders  to  his 
men  to  be  sure  and  capture  the  eagle  of  the  Eighth  Wis- 
consin ;  saying,  he  "  would  rather  have  him  than  a  dozen 
battle-flags."  But  for  all  that,  he  scarcely  lost  a  feather, — 
only  one  from  his  right  wing.  At  last  the  w^ar  was  over, 
and  the  brave  Wisconsin  Eighth,  with  their  live  eagle  and 
torn  and  riddled  flags,  were  welcomed  back  to  Madison. 
They  went  out  a  thousand  strong,  and  returned  a  little 
band,  scarred  and  toil-worn,  having  fought  and  won. 

10.  And  what  of  the  Soldier  Bird  ?  In  the  name  of 
the  gallant  veterans,  Captain  Wolf  presented  him  to  the 
State.  Governor  Lewis  accepted  the  illustrious  gift,  and 
ample  quarters  are  provided  for  him  in  the  beautiful  State^ 
house  grounds,  where  may  he  long  live  to  tell  us 

**  What  heroes  from  the  woodland  sprang, 
When,  through  the  fresh  awakened  land, 
The  thrilling  cry  of  Freedom  rang." 

11.  Nor  is  the  end  yet.  At  the  great  fair  in  Chicago, 
an  enterprising  gentleman  invited  "Abe"  to  attend.  He 
had  colored  photographs  of  the  old  hero  struck  ofi^,  and 
sold  sixteen  thousand  seven  hundred  dollars'  worth  for  the 
benefit  of  poor  and  sick  soldiers.  Has  not  the  American 
Eagle  done  his  part'  ?  May  not  the  Venerable  Veteran 
rest  upon  his  honors'  ? 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  73 

12.  ^'  'Tis  many  a  stormy  day 

Since,  out  of  the  cold,  bleak  North, 
Our  great  war  Eagle  sailed  forth 
To  swoop  o'er  battle  and  fray. 
Many  and  many  a  day. 

O'er  charge  and  storm  hath  he  wheeled,— 
Foray  and  fough ten-field, — 

Tramp,  and  volley,  and  rattle  !  — 
Over  crimson  trench  and  turf, 
Over  climbing  clouds  of  surf, 
Through  tempest  and  cannon-rack, 
Have  his  terrible  pinions  whirled  ;  — 
(A  thousand  fields  of  battle  ! 
A  million  leagues  of  foam  !) 
But  our  Bird  shall  yet  come  back, 

He  shall  soar  to  his  aerie-home,  — 
And  his  thunderous  wings  be  furled, 
In  the  gaze  of  a  gladdened  world, 
On  the  Nation's  loftiest  dome !  " 


LESSON   XT. 

^  Doub'  le-quick,  the  fastest  time  or  step,  in  marching,  next  to  the  run, 

requiring  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  steps,  each  thirty-three  inches  in 

length,  to  be  taken  in  one  minute. 
2  Aid'- DE-CAMP,  {did'-de-kdng,)  an  officer  selected  by  a  general  officer  to 

assist  him  in  his  military  duties. 
2  Met  a  mor'  pho  sis,  (meta,  over ;  morphosis,  Jbrminff,)  a  forming  over: 

change;  transformation. 

THE  BATTLE-FIELD. 

NO  person  who  was  not  upon  the  ground,  and  an  eye* 
witness  of  the  stirring  scenes  which  there  transpired, 
can  comprehend,  from  a  description,  the  terrible  realities  of 
a  battle ;  and  even  those  who  participated  are  competent 
4 


74  SANDEKS'  UNION   SERIES. 

to  speak  only  of  their  own  personal  experience.  Where 
friends  and  foes  are  falling  by  scores,  and  every  species 
of  missile  is  flying  through  the  air,  threatening  each  in- 
stant to  send  one  or  more  into  eternity,  little  time  is  af- 
forded for  more  observation  or  reflection  than  is  required 
for  personal  safety. 

2.  The  scene  is  one  of  the  most  exciting  and  exhilarating 
that  can  be  conceived.  Imagine  a  regiment  passing  you 
at  "  double-quick,"  ^  the  men  cheering  with  enthusiasm, 
their  teeth  set,  their  eyes  flashing,,  and  the  whole  in  a 
frenzy  of  resolution.  You  accompany  them  to  the  field. 
They  halt.  An  Aid-de-camp  ^  passes  to  or  from  the  com- 
mandinor  General.  The  clear  voices  of  the  officers  ring 
along  the  line  in  tones  of  passionate  eloquence ;  their 
words  burning,  thrilling,  and  elastic.  The  word  is  given 
to  march,  and  the  body  moves  into  action. 

3.  For  the  first  time  in  your  life,  you  listen  to  the  whiz- 
zing of  iron.  Grape  and  canister  fly  into  the  ranks,  bomb- 
shells burst  overhead,  and  the  fragments  fly  around  you. 
A  friend  falls ;  perhaps  a  dozen  or  twenty  of  your  com- 
rades lie  wounded  or  dying  at  your  feet ;  a  strange,  invol- 
untary shrinking  steals  over  you,  which  it  is  impossible  to 
resist.  You  feel  inclined  neither  to  advance  nor  recede, 
but  are  spell-bound  by  the  contending  emotions  of  the 
moral  and  physical  man.  The  cheek  blanches,  the  lips 
quiver,  and  the  eye  almost  hesitates  to  look  upon  the 
appalling  scene. 

4.  In  this  attitude  you  may,  perhaps,  be  ordered  to  stand 
an  hour  inactive  ;  havoc,  meanwhile,  marking  its  footsteps 
with  blood  on  every  side.  Finally  the  order  is  given  to 
advance,  to  fire,  or  to  charge.  And  now,  what  a  meta- 
morphosis !  ^  With  your  first  shot,  you  become  a  new 
man.     Personal  safety  is  your  least  concern.     Fear  has 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  75 

no  existence  in  your  bosom.  Hesitation  gives  way  to  an 
uncontrollable  desire  to  rush  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight, 
and  to  vie  with  others  in  deeds  of  daring. 

5.  The  dead  and  dying  around  you,  if  they,  receive  a 
passing  thought,  only  serve  to  stimulate  you  to  revenge. 
You  become  cool  and  deliberate,  and  watch  the  effect  of 
the  bullets,  the  shower  of  bursting  shells,  the  passage 
of  cannon-balls,  as  they  rake  their  murderous  channels 
through  your  ranks,  the  plunging  of  wounded. horses,  the 
agonies  of  the  dying,  and  the  clash  of  contending  arms 
which  follows  the  dashing  charge,  with  a  feeling  so  cal- 
loused by  surrounding  circumstances,  that  your  soul  seems 
dead  to  every  sympathizing  and  selfish  thought.  Such 
is  the  spirit  which  carries  the  soldier  through  the  exciting 
scenes  of  the  battle-field. 

6.  But  when  the  excitement  has  passed,  when  the  roll 
of  musketry  has  ceased,  the  thunderings  of  the  cannons 
are  stilled,  the  dusky  pall  of  sulphureous  smoke  has  risen 
from  the  field,  and  you  stroll  over  the  theater  of  carnage, 
hearing  the  groans  of  the  wounded,  discovering  here,  shat- 
tered almost  beyond  recognition,  the  form  of  some  dear 
friend  whom,  only  an  hour  before,  you  met  in  the  full  flush 
of  life  and  happiness,  there  another  perforated  by  a  bullet, 
a  third  with  a  limb  shot  away,  a  fourth  with  his  face  dis- 
figured, a  fifth  almost  torn  to  fragments,  a  sixth  a  headless 
corpse,  the  ground  plowed  up  and  stained  with  blood,  hu- 
man brains  splashed  around,  limbs  without  bodies,  and 
bodies  without  limbs,  scattered  here  and  there,  and  the 
same  picture  duplicated  scores  of  times,  —  then  you  begin 
to  realize  the  horrors  of  war,  and  experience  a  reaction  of 
nature. 

7.  The  heart  opens  its  flood-gates,  humanity  asr^erts  her- 
self again,  and  you  begin  to  feel.     Friend  and  foe  alike 


76  SANDEES'  UNION  SERIES. 

now  receive  your  kindest  ministering s.  The  enemy,  whom, 
but  a  short  time  before,  full  of  hate,  you  were  doing  all  in 
your  power  to  kill,  you  now  endeavor  to  save.  You  sup- 
ply him  with  water  to  quench  his  thirst,  with  food  to  sus- 
tain his  strength,  and  with  sympathizing  Avords  to  soothe 
his  troubled  mind.  All  that  is  humane  or  charitable  in 
your  nature  now  rises  to  the  surface,  and  you  are  ani- 
mated by  that  spirit  of  mercy  "  which  blesseth  him  that 
gives,  and  him  that  takes."  A  battle-field  is  eminently  a 
place  that  tries  men's  souls. 


LESSON   XII. 

*  Tour'  na  ment,  {tur'  na  ment.)     A  mock-fight  or  military  sport,  in  which 

a  number  of  combatants  are  engaged,  for  an  exhibition  of  their  address 
and  bravery. 

*  Guer' DON,  {ge/ don,)  reward;  recompense;  requital. 

'Bas'tion,  {hasC  yun,)  a  part  of  the  main  inclosure  of  a  fortress,  which 
projects  toward  the  exterior,  consisting  oi  faces  and  Jianks. 

SONG   OF   THE   CANNON-BALL. 


I  COME  from  the  ether,  cleft  hotly  aside, 
Through  the  air  of  the  soft  summer  morning ; 
I  come  with  a  song  as  I  dash  on  my  way,  — 

Both  a  dirge  and  a  message  of  warning: 
No  sweet,  idle  dreams,  nor  romance  of  love, 

Nor  Poet's  soft  balm-breathing  story 
Of  armor-clad  knight,  at  tournament  *  gay, 
Where  a  scarf  was  the  guerdon  ^  of  glory  ;  — 
Whistling  so  airily 
Past  the  ear  warily, 
Watching  me  narrowly. 
Crashing  I  come  ! 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  77 

2.  Swift-hurled  from  the  bastion,^  'mid  vohimes  of  smoke, 

I  dash  a  grim  messenger  flying  ; 
Before  me  the  livincr  —  behind  me  —  alas  ! 
(^Z.)  There  are  wounded  men  gasping  and  dying. 
I  carry  dispatches,  written  in  blood, 

With  a  death-wound  I  seal  and  deliver. 
Is  it  strange  that  a  destiny  fearful  as  this 

Makes  the  song  of  the  cannon-ball  quiver'  ?  — 
Whistling  so  wearily, 
Sighing  so  airily, 
Hymning*  so  dreamily 
A  dirge  f 07^  the  dead! 

3.  I  swerve  from  the  track,  when  the  stout  ashen  lance 

Is  crowned  with  the  banner  of  glory ; 
I  kiss  the  bright  folds  as  I  dash  on  my  way, 
While  the  flag  to  the  wind  tells  the  story. 
Evermore  'tis  my  errand  to  knock  at  the  door, 

Where  life  keeps  its  watch  o'er  the  portal ; 
I  batter  the  clay,  —  but  the  tenant  within 
Deserts  to  the  army  immortal : 

None  ever  flying  there, 
Nevermore  sio-hino;  there. 
Nevermore  dying  there,  — 
Yonder  —  in  Heaven! 

4.  I  turn  me  aside  from  the  young  soldier  lad. 

Where  the  angels  their  bright  robes  fold  o'er  him ; 
I  see  their  bright  wings  as  they  ward  me  aside,  — 

'Tis  the  prayer  of  the  faithful  who  love  him. 
Close,  close  to  his  temples,  I  brush  the  bright  locks, 

He  laughs  at  my  song,  never  guessing 

'     *  Pronounced  hymfning  with  he  n  sounded. 


78  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

How  liis  mother,  bent  low  at  the  foot  of  the  cross, 
Brings  down  for  him  safety  and  blessing: 
Yielding  him  tearfully, 
Watching  so  fearfully, 
Trusting  yet  cheerfully,  — 
God  keep  her  hoy  ! 

5.  How  I  laugh  when  the  oak  to  his  ruo-cred  old  breast 
Takes  me  home  with  a  sigh  and  a  quiver ; 
Or,  splashing,  I  sink  in  the  welcoming  wave 

Closing  ov^er  me,  for  aye  and  forever. 
Nay  —  better  than  this  —  when  I've  written  my  name 

On  the  walls  of  the  fortress  all  over, 
I'll  rest  me  at  last,  when  around  me  shall  grow 
Green  grass,  starry  daisies,  and  clover ;  — 
Sweet  in  the  summer  air. 
Waving  their  blossoms  fair, 
Cover  the  minstrel  there ^ 
Silent  forever  ! 


LESSON    XIII. 
THE   CHILDREN   OF   THE   BATTLE-FIELD. 

JAMES  G.  CLARK. 

The  followinj?  touching  stanzas  received  the  prize  offered  by  the  Philadel- 
phia Christian  Commission  for  a  poem  on  the  death  of  Sergeant  Humiston, 
of  Portville,  N.Y.,  who  was  found  dead  at  Gettysburg  several  days  after  the 
battle,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ambrotype  of  his  three  children. 

1.  TTPON  the  field  of  Gettysburg 
U      The  summer  sun  was  high. 
When  Freedom  met  her  haughty  foe, 
Beneath  a  Northern  sky ; 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  79 

Among  the  heroes  of  the  North, 

Who  swelled  her  grand  array, 
And  rushed,  Hke  mountain  eagles  forth, 

From  happy  homes  away, 
There  stood  a  man  of  humble  name, 

A  sire  of  children  three. 
And  gazed  within  a  little  frame, 

Their  pictured  forms  to  see  ; 
And  blame  him  not,  if  in  the  strife 

He  breathed  a  soldier's  prayer :  — 
"  Oh^  Father  !  guard  the  soldier'' 8  wife^ 

And  for  his  children  care  /  " 

2.  Upon  the  field  of  Gettysburg 

When  morning  shone  again. 
The  crimson  cloud  of  battle  burst 

In  streams  of  fiery  rain  ; 
Our  legions  quelled  the  awful  flood 

Of  shot,  and  steel,  and  shell. 
While  banners,  marked  with  ball  and  blood. 

Around  them  rose  and  fell  ; 
And  none  more  nobly  won  the  name 
.    Of  Champion  for  the  Free 
Than  he  who  pressed  the  little  frame 

That  held  his  children  three  ; 
And  none  \yqvq  braver  in  the  strife 

Tlian  he  who  breathed  the  prayer :  — 
"  07i,  Father  !  guard  the  soldier's  wife, 

And  for  his  children  care  /  " 

8.  Upon  the  field  of  Gettysburg 
The  full  moon  slowly  rose ; 
She  looked  and  saw  ten  thousand  brows 
All  pale  in  death's  repose ; 


80  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

And,  down  beside  a  silver  stream, 

From  other  forms  away, 
Calm  as  a  warrior  in  a  dream 

Our  fallen  comrade  lay  ; 
(o)  His  limbs  were  cold,  his  sightless  eyes 

Were  fixed  upon  the  three ; 
Sweet  stars  that  rose  in  memory's  skies 

To  light  him  o'er  death's  sea. 
Then  honored  be  the  soldier's  life, 

And  hallowed  be  his  prayer  :  — 
"  Ohj  Father  !  guard  the  soldier's  wife^ 

And  for  his  children  care  !  " 


LESSON    XI Y. 

THE  BRAVE   AT  HOME. 

ANON. 

THE  Maid  who  binds  her  warrior's  *  sash, 
With  a  smile  that  well  her  grief  dissembles, 
The  while  beneath  her  drooping  lash 

One  starry  tear-drop  hangs  and  trembles, 
Though  Heaven  alone  record  the  tear, 

And  Fame  shall  never  know  her  story, 
Her  heart  doth  shed  a  drop  as  dear 
As  ever  dewed  the  field  of  glory. 

The  Wife  who  girds  her  husband's  sword, 
'Mid  little  ones  who  weep  and  wonder. 

And  bravely  speaks  the  cheering  word, 

What  though  her  heart  be  rent  asunder,  -■—_ 


*  Pronounced  wo/ 


yur. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  81 

Doomed  nightly  in  her  dreams  to  hear 

Tlie  bolts  of  war  around  iiini  rattle, 
Hath  shed  as  sacred  blood  as  e'er 

Was  poured  upon  a  field  of  battle. 

3.  The  Mother  who  conceals  her  grief, 

When  to  her  heart  her  son  she  presses, 
Then  breathes  a  few  brave  words  and  brief, 

Kissing  the  patriot  brow  she  blesses. 
With  no  one  but  her  secret  God 

To  know  the  pain  that  weighs  upon  her, 
Sheds  holy  blood  as  e'er  the  sod 

Received  on  Freedom's  field  of  honor. 


LESSOlSr    XV.  ' 

THE   SOLDIER'S   REPRIEVE. 


N.    Y.  OBSICllVEU. 


«  T  THOUGHT,  Mr.  Allan,  when  I  gave  my  Bennie  to 
J.  liis  country,  that  not  a  father  in  all  this  broad  land 
made  so  precious  a  gift,  —  no,  not  one.  The  dear  boy 
only  slept  a  minute,  just  one  little  minute^  at  his  post :  I 
knoiv  that  was  all,  for  Bennie  never  dozed  over  a  duty. 
How  prompt  and  reliable  he  was  !  I  hioio  he  only  fell 
asleep  one  little  second;  —  he  was  so  young^  and  not 
strong,  that  boy  of  mine  !  Why,  he  was  af^  tall  as  I,  and 
only  eighteen  !  and  now  they  shoot  him  because  he  wag 
found  asleep  Avhen  doing  sentinel  duty !  Twenty-four 
liours,  the  telegram  said,  —  only  twenty-four  hours. 
Where  is  Bennie  nowf'' 

2.  "  We  will  hope  with  his  heavenly  Father,"  said  Mr. 
Allan,  soothingly. 
6 


82  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;   let  us  hope  :  God  is  very  merciful ! 

"  '  I  should  be  ashamed,  father ! '  Bennie  said,  '  when  I 
am  a  man,  to  think  I  never  used  this  great  right  arm,' 
—  and  he  held  it  out  so  proudly  before  me,  — '  for  my 
country,  wlien  it  needed  it !  Palsy  it  rather  than  keep 
it  at  the  plow  !  ' 

"  '  Go,  then  go,  my  boy,'  I  said,  '  and  God  keep  you  !' 
God  Aas  kept  him,  I  think,  Mr.  Allan!"  and  the  farmer 
repeated  these  last  words  slowly,  as  if,  in  spite  of  his  reason, 
his  heart  doubted  them. 

"  Like  the  apple  of  his  eye,  Mr.  Owen,  doubt  it  not !  " 

3.  Blossom  had  sat  near  them  listening,  with  blanched 
cheek.  She  had  not  shed  a  tear.  Her  anxiety  had  been 
so  concealed  that  no  one  had  noticed  it.  She  had  occu- 
pied herself  mechanically  in  the  household  cares.  Now  she 
answered  a  gentle  tap  at  the  kitchen  door,  opening  it  to 
receive  from  a  neighbor's  hand  a  letter.  ''  It  is  from  7im," 
was  all  she  said. 

It  was  like  a  message  from  the  dead  !  Mr.  Owen  took 
the  letter,  but  could  not  break  the  envelope,  on  account  of 
his  trembling;  fino;ers,  and  held  it  toward  Mr.  Allan,  with 
the  helplessness  of  a  child. 

4.  The  minister  opened  it,  and  read  as  follows :  — 

"  Dear  Father :  —  When  this  reaches  you,  I  shall  be  in 
eternity.  At  first,  it  seemed  awful  to  me ;  but  I  have 
thought  about  it  so  much  now,  that  it  has  no  tei-ror.  They 
say  they  will  not  bind  me,  nor  blind  me ;  but  that  I  may 
meet  my  death  like  a  man.  I  thought,  fluhcr,  it  might 
have  been  on  the  battle-field,  for  my  country,  and  that, 
when  I  fell,  it  would  be  fighting  gloriously  ;  but  to  be  shot 
down  like  a  dog  for  nearly  betraying  it,  —  to  die  for  neglect 
of  duty  !  0,  father,  I  wonder  the  very  thought  does  not 
kill  me !     But  I  shall   not  disgrace  yoa      I  am  goiny*  to 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  83 

write  you  all  about  it ;  and  when  I  am  gone,  you  may  tell 
my  comrades.     I  can  not  now. 

5.  "  You  know  I  promised  Jemmie  Carr's  mother,  I 
would  look  after  her  boy  ;  and,  when  he  fell  sick,  I  did  all  I 
could  for  him.  He  was  not  strong  when  he  was  ordered 
back  into  the  ranks,  and  the  day  before  that  night,  I  carried 
all  his  luggage,  besides  my  own,  on  our  march.  Toward 
night  we  went  in  on  double-quick,^  and  though  the  luggage 
began  to  feel  very  heavy,  everybody  else  was  tired  too  ;  and 
as  for  Jemmie,  if  I  had  not  lent  him  an  arm  now  and  then, 
he  would  have  dropped  by  the  way.  I  was  all  tired  out 
when  we  came  into  camp,  and  then  it  was  Jemmie's  turn  to 
be  sentry,  and  I  would  take  his  place  ;  but  I  was  too  tired, 
father.  I  could  not  have  kept  awake  if  a  gun  had  been 
pointed  at  my  head;  but  I  did  not  know  it  until  —  well, 
until  it  was  too  late.''^ 

6.  "  God  be  thanked ! "  interrupted  Mr.  Owen,  rever- 
ently. "  I  knew  Bennie  was  not  the  boy  to  sleep  carelessly 
at  his  post." 

^'  They  tell  me  to-day  that  I  have  a  short  reprieve,  — 
given  to  me  by  circumstances,  — '  time  to  write  to  you,'  our 
good  Colonel  says.  Forgive  him,  father,  he  only  does  his 
duty  ;  he  would  gladly  save  me  if  he  could:  and  do  not  lay 
my  death  up  against  Jemmie.  The  poor  boy  is  broken- 
hearted, and  does  nothing  but  beg  and  entreat  them  to  let 
him  die  in  my  stead. 

7.  "  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  mother  and  Blossom.  Com- 
fort them,  father !  Tell  them  I  die  as  a  brave  boy  should, 
and  that,  when  the  war  is  over,  they  will  not  be  ashamed 
of  me,  as  they  must  be  now.  God  help  me ;  it  is  very 
hard  to  bear !  Good-by,  father  !  God  seems  near  and  dear 
to  me,  not  at  all  as  if  He  wished  me  to  perish  forever,  but 
as  if  He  felt  sorry  for  his  poor,  sinful,  broken-hearted  child. 


84  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

and  would  take  me  to  be  with  Him  and  my  Savior  in  a 
better  —  better  life." 

A  deep  sigh  burst  from  Mr.  Owen's  heart.  "  Amen," 
he  said  solemnly, —  "  Amen." 

"  To-night,  in  the  early  twilight,  I  shall  see  the  cows  all 
coming  home  from  pasture,  and  precious  little  Blossom  stand 
on  the  back  stoop,  waiting  for  me,  —  but  I  shall  never  — 
never  come !  God  bless  you  all  1  Forgive  your  poor 
Bennie." 

8.  Late  that  night  the  door  of  the  "  back  stoop  "  opened 
softly,  and  a  little  figure  glided  out,  and  down  the  foot-path 
that  led  to  the  road  by  the  mill.  She  seemed  rather  flying 
than  walking,  turning  her  head  neither  to  the  right  nor  the 
left,  looking  only  now  and  then  to  Heaven,  and  folding  her 
hands,  as  if  in  prayer.  Two  hours  later,  the  same  young 
girl  stood  at  the  Mill  Depot,  w^atching  the  coming  of  the 
night  train  ;  and  the  conductor,  as  he  reached  down  to  lift 
her  into  the  car,  wondered  at  the  tear-stained  face  that  was 
upturned  toward  the  dim  lantern  he  held  in  his  hand.  A 
few  questions  and  ready  answers  told  him  all  ;  and  no 
father  could  have  cared  more  tenderly  for  his  only  child, 
than  he  for  our  little  Blossom. 

9.  She  was  on  her  way  to  Washington,  to  ask  President 
Lincoln  for  her  brother's  life.  She  had  stolen  away,  leav- 
ing only  a  note  to  tell  her  father  where  and  why  she  had 
gone.  She  had  brought  Bennie's  letter  with  her :  no  good, 
kind  heart,  like  the  President's,  could  refuse  to  be  melted  by 
it.  The  next  morning  they  reached  New  York,  and  the 
conductor  hurried  her  on  to  Washington.  Every  minute, 
now,  might  be  the  means  of  saving  her  brother's  life.  And 
so,  in  an  incredibly  short  time.  Blossom  reached  the  Cap- 
ital, and  hastened  immediately  to  the  White  House. 

10.  The  President  had  but  just  seated  himself  to  his 


UNION  FIFTH  READEK.  85 

morning's  task,  of  overlooking  and  signing  important  pa- 
pers, when,  without  one  word  of  ainiouncement,  tlie  door 
softly  opened,  and  Blossom,  with  downcast  eyes,  and  folded 
liands,  stood  before  him. 

"  Well,  my  child,"  he  said  in  his  pleasant,  cheerful  tones, 
"  what  do  you  want  so  bright  and  early  in  the  morning  ?  " 

''  Bennie's  life,  please,  sir,"  faltered  Blossom. 

"  Bennie'  ?    Who  is  Bennie  ?  " 

"  My  brother,  sir.  They  are  going  to  shoot  him  for 
sleeping  at  his  post." 

11.  "  Oh,  yes,"  and  Mr.  Lincoln  ran  his  eye  over  the 
papers  before  him.  "  I  remember  !  It  was  a  fatal  sleep. 
You  see,  child,  it  was  at  a  time  of  special  danger.  Thou- 
sands of  lives  might  have  been  lost  for  his  culpable  negli- 
gence." 

"  So  my  father  said,"  replied  Blossom  gravely,  "  but 
poor  Bennie  was  so  tired,  sir,  and  Jemmie  so  weak.  He 
did  the  work  of  two,  sir,  and  it  was  Jemmie' s  night,  not 
his;  but  Jemmie  was  too  tired,  and  Bennie  never  thought 
about  himself,  that  he  was  tired  too." 

"  What  is  this  you  say',  child  ?  Come  here  ;  I  do  not 
understand,"  and  the  kind  man  caught  eagerly,  as  ever,  at 
what  seemed  to  be  a  justification  of  an  offense. 

12.  Blossom  went  to  him  :  he  put  his  hand  tenderly  on 
her  shoulder,  and  turned  up  the  pale,  anxious  face  toward 
his.  How  tall  he  seemed,  and  he  w^as  President  of  the 
United  States  too  !  A  dim  thought  of  this  kind  passed  for 
a  moment  through  Blossom's  mind  ;  but  she  told  her  simple 
and  straightforward  story,  and  handed  Mr.  Lincoln  Ben- 
nie's letter  to  read. 

He  read  it  carefully  ;  then,  taking  up  his  pen,  wrote  a 
few  hasty  lines,  and  rang  his  bell. 

Blossom  heard  this  order  mven :  '*  Send  this  dispatch 


86  SANDERS'  tJNIOK  SERIES. 

13.  The  President  then  turned  to  the  girl  and  said, — 
"  Go  home,  my  child,  and  tell  that  father  of  yours,  who 
could  approve  his  country's  sentence,  even  when  it  took 
the  life  of  a  child  like  that,  that  Abraham  Lincoln  thinks 
the  life  far  too  precious  to  be  lost.  Go  back,  or  —  wait 
until  to-morrow  ;  Bennie  will  need  a  change  after  he  has  so 
bravely  faced  death  ;  he  shall  go  with  you." 

"  God  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Blossom ;  and  who  shall 
doubt  that  God  heard  and  registered  the  request? 

14.  Two  days  after  this  interview,  the  young  soldier 
came  to  the  White  House  with  his  little  sifter.  He  was 
called  into  the  President's  private  room,  and  a  strap  fastened 
"upon  the  shoulder."  Mr.  Lincoln  then  said, —  "The 
soldier  that  could  carry  a  sick  comrade's  baggage,  and  die 
for  the  good  act  so  uncomplainingly,  deserves  "well  of  his 
country."  Then  Bennie  and  Blossom  took  their  way  to 
their  Green  Mountain  home.  A  cowd  gathered  at  the 
Mill  Depot  to  welcome  them  back  ;  and,  as  farmer  Owen's 
hand  grasped  that  of  his  boy,  tears  flowed  down  his 
cheeks,  and  he  was  heard  to  say  fervently,  —  "  The  Lord 

BE  PRAISED  ! " 

Question.  —  Why  the  rising  inflection  on  Bennie  and  say,  as  marked  in 
the  10th  and  11th  paragraphs  ?     See  page  29,  Note  I.  under  Rule  11. 


LESSON   XYI 
THE  LAST  RIDE. 


MISS    MULOCK. 


"  TT'OU  mnst  let  me  remain  out  a  good  while  to-day,  I 

X     feel  so  strong ;  and,  perhaps,  I  might  stay  a  little 

later,  to  watch  the  sunset.     I  never  can  see  it  from  my 

room,  you  know ;  which  seems  rather  hard,  now  the  even- 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  87 

ings  are  so  beautiful  and  spring-like."  Philip  soothed  him 
as  an  elder  brother  might  have  done,  and  promised  all, 
provided  he  felt  strong  enough.  Then  he  took  Leigh  in 
his  arms  like  a  child,  and  carried  him  down  stairs  to  the 
gay  carriage. 

2.  "Now,  where  shall  we  go,  Leigh?"  was  the  first 
question  proposed,  as  they  drove  along  High  Street.  Leigh 
pleaded  for  some  quiet  road :  he  wanted  to  go  far  out  in 
the  country, — -to  that  beautiful  lane  which  runs  along  by 
the  river  side.  He  had  been  there  once  at  the  beginning 
of  his  illness,  and  had  often  talked  of  the  place  since.  It 
haunted  him,  he  said,  with  its  overhanging  trees,  and  the 
river  view  breaking  in  between  them,  —  its  tiny  wavelets 
all  sparkling  in  the  sun.  He  knew  it  would  look  just  the 
same  this  calm,  bright  May  afternoon.  So,  accordingly, 
they  went  thither. 

3.  It  was  one  of  those  spring  days  when  the  Earth  seems 
to  rest  from  her  joyful  labor  of  budding  and  blossoming, 
and  to  be  dreaming  of  summer.  The  birds  in  the  trees, 
the  swans  in  the  water,  the  white  clouds  in  the  sky,  were 
alike  still ;  and  upon  all  things  had  fallen  the  spell  of  a 
blessed  silence  —  a  silence  full  of  happiness,  and  hope,  and 
love.  Happiness,  hope,  and  love,  what  words,  what  idle 
words,  they  would  sound  unto  the  two  who  were  passing 
slowly  under  the  shadow  of  the  trees  !  Oh,  Earth  !  beauti- 
ful, cruel  mother !  How  canst  thou  smile  with  a  face  so  fair, 
when  sorrow  or  death  is  on  thy  children  !  But  the  Earth 
answers  softly :  —  "I  smile  with  a  calm  and  changeless 
smile  to  tell  my  frail  children  that  if  in  me^  made  but  for 
their  use,  is  such  ever-renewed  life  and  joy,  shall  it  not  be 
so  with  them!  ?  And  even  while  they  gaze  upon  me,  I 
pour  into  their  hearts  my  deep  peace ! " 

4.  It  was  so  Avith  Philip  and  Leigh.     They  sat  silent, 


88  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

hand  in  hand,  and  looked  on  this  beautiful  scene :  from 
both  the  bitterness  passed  away —  the  bitterness  of  life, 
and  that  of  death.  Which  was  the  greater  ?  On  the 
bridge,  Leigh  spoke.  He  begged  tliat  the  carriage  might 
rest  a  moment,  to  let  him  look  at  the  sunset,  which  was 
very  lovely.  He  half  lifted  himself  up,  and  the  large, 
brown  eyes  seemed  drinking  in  all  the  beauty  that  was  in 
land,  river,  and  sky :  they  rested  longest  there.  Then  they 
turned  to  meet  Philip's :  that  mute  gaze  between  the  two 
was  full  of  solemn  meaning.  "Are  you  content?"  wliis- 
pered  Philip.     "  Yes,  quite  :  now  let  us  go  home." 

5.  Leigh's  eyes  closed,  and  his  voice  grew  faint.  "  You 
seem  tired,"  said  tlie  other  anxiously.  "  Yes,  a  little. 
Take  me  home  soon,  will  you,  Philip  ? "  His  head 
drooped  on  the  young  man's  shoulder  heavily  —  so  heav- 
ily that  Pliihp  signed  to  the  coachman  to  drive  on  at  his 
utmost  speed.  Then  he  put  his  arm  around  the  boy,  who 
lay  with  closed  eyes,  his  white  cheek  looking  gray  and 
sunken  in  the  purple  evening  light.  Once  Philip  spoke, 
almost  trembling  lest  no  answer  should  come.  "Are  you 
quite  easy,  dear  Leigh  ?  "  The  eyes  opened,  and  the  lips 
parted  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Yes,  thank  you  ;  only  weary  : 
I  can  hardly  keep  awake ;  but  I  must  till  I  have  seen  my 
mother." 

6.  And  still  the  dying  head  sank  heavier  on  Philip's 
shoulder,  and  the  hands,  which  he  drew  in  his  to  warm 
them,  were  already  growing  damp  and  rigid.  He  sat  with 
this  solemn  burden  in  his  arms,  and  the  carriage  drove 
homeward  until  they  entered  the  square.  The  mother 
stood  at  the  door !  "  Take  her  away,  only  one  minute," 
whispered  Philip  to  the  servant ;  but  she  had  sprung 
already  to  the  carriage.  "  Leigh !  how  is  my  darling 
Leigh?"     Her  voice  seemed  to  pierce  even  through  the 


UNION  FIFTH   READER.  80 

shadows  of  another  world,  and  to  reach  the  dying  boy.  He 
opened  his  eyes,  and  smiled  tenderly  upon  lier.  "  Leigh 
is  tired  —  almost  asleep.  Take  the  cushion,  and  I  will 
carry  him  in,"  said  Philip  hastily  to  the  mother.  She 
obeyed  without  a  word  ;  but  her  face  grew  deadly  white, 
and  her  hands  trembled. 

7.  When  the  boy  was  placed,  as  he  seemed  to  wish,  in 
liis  mother's  arm-chair,  she  came  and  knelt  before  him, 
lookinor  into  his  face.  There  was  a  shadow  there.  She 
saw  it,  and  felt  that  the  time  was  come  when  not  even  the 
mother  could  stand  between  her  child  and  death.  Philip 
thought  she  would  have  shrieked,  or  fainted ;  but  she  did 
neither.  She  only  gazed  into  the  dim  eyes  with  a  wild, 
earnest,  almost  beseeching  gaze.  "  Mother,  will  you  let 
me  go  ?"  murmured  Leigh.  She  drew  a  long  sigh,  as  if 
repressing  an  agony  so  terrible  that  the  struggle  was  like 
that  of  a  soul  parting;  and  then  said,  —  "  Yes,  my  dar- 
ling ! " 

8.  He  smiled,  —  Avhat  a  heaven  is  there  in  the  happy 
smile  of  the  dying!  —  and  suffered  her  fond  ministering 
hands  —  unwilling  even  yet  to  give  up  their  long  tend- 
ance—  to  unfasten  the  cloak,  and  put  the  wine  to  his  lips. 
Then  she  sat  down  beside  him,  laid  his  head  on  her  bosom, 
and  awaited  —  oh,  mighty  strength  of  a  mother's  love  !  — 
awaited,  tearless  and  calm,  the  passing  away  of  the  life 
which  she  had  given.  "He  is  quite  content  —  quite 
happy  —  he  told  me  so,"  Philip  whispered  in  her  ear,  with 
his  soft  comforting  voice.  She  turned  round  one  moment 
with  a  startled  air:  —  "  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  (jt?.)  Hush  ! " 
and  she  bent  down  again  over  her  child,  whose  faint  lips 
seemed  trying  to  frame,  scarcely  louder  than  a  sigh,  the 
last  word,  —  "  Mother  ! " 

9.  Then  there  fell  over  the  twilight-shadowed  room  a 


90  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

solemn  silence,  long  and  deep,  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
spirit  passed.  They  only  knew  that  it  was  so,  when,  as 
the  moon  rose,  the  pale,  spiritual  light  fell  on  the  calm  face 
of  the  dead  boy,  still  pillow^ed  on  the  mother's  breast. 
She  turned  and  looked  upon  it  without  a  tear,  or  a  moan, 
so  beautiful,  so  heavenly  w^as  it!  At  that  moment,  had 
they  put  to  her  the  question  of  old,  —  "Is  it  well  with 
the  child  ?  "  *  she  would  have  answered  like  the  Shunam* 
ite,  —  "It  is  well!" 


LESSON   XYIL 

*  Su  per'nal,  {stjteu, above;)  relating  to  things  above;  celestial;  heavenly 
PASSING  TO   THE   SUPERNAL.* 

SAT.  EVE.  POST. 

!•  T  AM  drifting,  slowly  drifting, 

JL     With  the  changing  waves  of  time ; 
Every  scene  around  me  shifting, 

And  each  moment  more  sublime. 
As  I  near  the  great  eternal, 
Passing  on  to  the  supernal, 
Through  the  grave. 

2.  On  each  shore  are  hidden  treasures, 
'Neath,  the  waves  rare  jewels  play ; 
Time  bears  on  in  rapid  measures ; 
I,  to  seek  them,  may  not  stay ; 
For  my  home  is  the  eternal. 
And  I  pass  to  the  supernal, 
Through  the  grave. 

*  2  Kings,  4lli  chap.,  26th  verse. 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADEK.  91 

Sometimes  on  the  foamy  billow, 

Sometimes  in  the  sinking  sand, 
Weary  head  can  find  no  pillow, 

Weary  feet  can  find  no  land ; 
But  I  'm  nearer  the  eternal, 
Passing  on  to  the  supernal, 
Through  the  grave. 

Dark  the  clouds  that  float  above  me, 
Fierce  the  winds  that  round  me  play ; 

Changing  waves  that  ever  move  me. 
Drifting  —  here  I  may  not  stay ; 

For  I  see  the  great  eternal, 

And  I  press  to  the  supernal, 
Through  the  grave. 

Darker  still  the  skies  that  cover. 

Icy  chill  the  waters  now ; 
Angel  wings  above  me  hover, 

Angels  smooth  the  death-pale  brow. 
Lo  !  I  enter  the  eternal. 
And  I  pass  to  joys  supernal, 
Through  the  grave ! 


LESSON    XVIII. 

SUNSHINE   AND   SHOWERS. 

1.  rpWO  children  stood  at  their  father's  gate, 
JL      Two  girls  with  golden  hair  ; 
And  their  eyes  were  bright,  and  their  voices  glad, 
Because  the  morn  was  fair. 


92  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

For  they  said,  —  "  We  will  take  that  long,  long  walk 

In  the  hawthorn  copse  to-day ; 
And  gather  great  bunches  of  lovely  flowers 
.  From  off  the  scented  May  ; 

And  oh  !  we  shall  be  so  happy  there 

'Twill  be  sorrow  to  come  away  I" 

2.  As  the  children  spoke,  a  little  cloud 

Passed  slowly  across  the  sky ; 
And  one  looked  up  in  her  sister's  face 

With  a  tear-drop  in  her  eye. 
But  the  other  said,  —  "  Oh  !  heed  it  not ; 

'Tis  far  too  fair  to  ram ; 
That  little  cloud  may  search  the  sky 

For  other  clouds,  in  vain." 
And  soon  the  children's  voices  rose 

In  merriment  again. 

3.  But  ere  the  mcrning  hours  waned. 

The  sky  had  changed  its  hue. 
And  that  one  cloud  had  chased  away 

The  whole  great  heaven  of  blue. 
The  rain  fell  down  in  heavy  drops, 

The  wind  began  to  blow. 
And  the  children,  in  their  nice  warm  room. 

Went  fretting  to  and  fro ; 
For  they  said,  —  "  When  we  have  aught  in  store, 

It  always  happens  so ! " 

4.  Now  these  two  fair-haired  sisters 

Had  a  brother  out  at  sea  ; 
A  little  midshipman,  aboard 
The  gallant  "-  Victory." 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  93 

And  on  that  self-same  morning, 

When  they  stood  beside  the  gate, 
His  ship  was  wrecked  !  and  on  a  raft 

He  stood  all  desolate, 
With  the  other  sailors  round  him, 

Prepared  to  meet  their  fate. 

5.  Beyond  they  saw  the  cool,  green  land,  — 

The  land  with  her  waving  trees. 
And  her  little  brooks,  that  rise  and  fall 

Like  butterflies  in  the  breeze. 
But  above,  the  burning  noontide  sun 

With  scorching  stillness  shone  ; 
Their  throats  were  parched  with  bitter  thirst, 

And  they  knelt  down,  one  by  one, 
And  prayed  to  God  for  a  drop  of  rain, 

And  a  gale  to  waft  them  on. 

6.  And  then  that  little  cloud  was  sent, — 

That  shower  in  mercy  given  ! 
And,  as  a  bird  before  the  breeze. 

Their  bark  was  laiidward  driven. 
And  some  few  mornings  after. 

When  the  children  met  once  more, 
And  their  brother  told  the  story. 

They  knew  it  was  the  hour 
When  they  had  wished  for  sunshine^ 

And  God  had  sent  the  shower. 


94  SANDEBS'  UNION  SEBIES. 


LESSON   XIX. 

^  Ba'  con,  Francis,  usually  known  as  Lord  Bacon,  was  bom  in  London, 
England,  Jan.  22,  1560,  and  died  1626.  He  was  famous  as  a  scholar, 
a  wit,  a  lawyer,  a  judge,  a  statesman,  a  politician,  but  chiefly  as  a 
philosopher. 
New''  ton.  Sir  Isaac,  the  greatest  of  English  philosophers,  was  born  in 
Lincolnshire,  Dec.  25,  1642,  and  died  March  20, 1727.  His  three  great 
discoveries,  of  fluxions,  the  nature  of  light  and  colors,  and  the  law  of 
gravitation,  were  conceived  before  he  was  twenty-five  years  of  age.  On 
witnessing  the  fall  of  an  apple,  he  was  led  into  a  train  of  reflection, 
which  resulted  in  his  theory  of  gravitation.  He  was  a  profound  mathe- 
matician, and  a  sincere  Christian.  Certain  prophecies  in  the  Bible 
led  him  to  infer  that  men  would,  one  day,  be  able  to  travel  at  the 
rate  of  Jijly  miles  an  hour.  How  marvelously  has  his  belief  been 
verified ! 

EDUCATION,  OUR   OWN  WORK. 

JOHN    TODD. 

THE  human  mind  is  the  brightest  display  of  the  power 
and  skill  of  the  Infinite  Mind  with  which  we  are 
acquainted.  It  is  created  and  placed  in  this  world  to  be 
educated  for  a  hicrher  state  of  existence.  Here  its  faculties 
begin  to  unfold,  and  those  mighty  energies,  which  are  to 
bear  it  forward  to  unendino;  ao-es,  bemn  to  discover  them- 
selves.  The  object  of  training  such  a  mind  should  be,  to 
enable  the  soul  to  fulfill  her  duties  well  here,  and  to  stand 
on  high  vantage-ground,  when  she  leaves  this  cradle  of  her 
being,  for  an  eternal  existence  beyond  the  grave. 

2.  Most  students  need  encouragement  to  sustain,  in- 
struction to  aid,  and  direction  to  guide  them.  Few, 
probably,  ever  accomplish  any  thing  like  as  much  as  they 
expected  or  ought ;  and  perhaps  one  reason  is,  that  they 
waste  a  vast  amount  of  time  in  acquiring  that  experience 
which  they  need.  Doubtless,  multitudes  are  now  in  the 
process  of  education,  who  will  never  reach  any  tolerable 


TJNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  95 

standard  of  excellence..  Probably  some  never  could ;  but, 
in  most  cases,  they  might.  The  exceptions  are  few.  In 
most  cases  young  men  do  feel  a  desire,  more  or  less  strong, 
of  fitting  themselves  for  respectability  and  usefulness. 

3.  You  may  converse  with  any  man,  however  distin- 
guished for  attainments,  or  habits  of  application,  or  power 
of  using  what  he  knows,  and  he  will  sigh  over  the  re- 
membrance of  the  past,  and  tell  you  that  there  have 
been  many  fragments  of  time  which  he  has  wasted,  and 
many  opportunities  which  he  has  lost  forever.  If  he  had 
only  seized  upon  the  fleeting  advantages,  and  gathered 
up  the  fragments  of  time,  he  might  have  pushed  his  re- 
searches out  into  new  fields,  and,  like  the  immortal 
Bacon,^  have  amassed  vast  stores  of  knowledge.  The 
mighty  minds  which  "have  gone  before  us  have  left 
treasures  for  our  inheritance ;  and  the  choicest  gold  is 
to  be  had  for  the  digging. 

4.  The  object  of  hard  study  is  not  to  draw  out  genius, 
but  to  take  minds  such  as  are  formed  of  common  mold, 
and  fit  them  for  active  and  decisive  usefulness.  Nothing 
is  so  much  coveted  by  a  young  man  as  the  reputation  of 
being  a  genius ;  and  many  seem  to  feel  that  the  want  of 
patience  for  laborious  apphcation  and  deep  research  is 
such  a  mark  of  genius  as  can  not  be  mistaken :  while  a 
real  genius,  like  Sir  Isaac  Newton,^  w^ith  great  modesty 
says,  that  the  great  and  only  difference  between  his  mind 
and  the  minds  of  others  consisted  solely  in  his  having 
more  patience. 

5.  You  may  have  a  good  mind,  a  sound  judgment,  a 
vivid  imagination,  or  a  wide  reach  of  thought  and  views ; 
but  you  can  never  become  distinguished  Avithout  severe 
application.  Hence,  all  that  you  ever  have  must  be  the 
result  of  labor,  —  hard,  untiring  labor.     You  have  friends 


96  SANDEBS'  UNION  SERIES. 

to  cheer  you  on,  and  you  have  books  and  teachers  to  aid 
you  ;  but,  after  all,  disciplining  and  educating  your  mind 
must  be  your  own  work.  No  one  can  do  this  but  yourself. 
And  nothing  in  this  world  is  of  any  worth  which  has  not 
labor  and  toil  as  its  price. 

6.  The  first  and  great  object  of  education  is,  to  discipline 
the  mind,  ^-  to  fit  it  for  future  acquisition  and  usefulness. 
Make  it  the  first  object  to  be  able  to  fix  and  hold  your 
attention  upon  your  studies.  He  who  can  do  this,  has 
mastered  many  and  great  difficulties ;  and  he  who  can  not 
do  it,  will  in  vain  look  for  success  in  any  department  of 
study.  To  effect  any  j)urpose  in  study,  the  mind  must  be 
concentrated.  If  any  other  object  plays  on  the  fancy  than 
that  which  ought  to  be  exclusively  before  it,  the  mind  is 
divided,  and  both  are  neutralized,  so  as  to  lose  their 
effect. 

7.  Patience  is  a  virtue  kindred  to  attention ;  and  with- 
out it,  the  mind  can  not  be  said  to  be  disciplined.  Patient 
labor  and  investigation  are  not  only  essential  to  success  in 
study,  but  are  an  unfailing  guarantee  to  success.  The  stu- 
dent should  learn  to  think  and  act  for  himself.  True  origi- 
nality consists  in  doing  things  well,  and  doing  them  in  our 
own  way.  A  mind,  half-educated,  is  generally  imitating 
others.  No  man  was  ever  great  by  imitation.  Let  it  be 
remembered  that  we  can  not  copy  greatness  or  goodness 
by  any  effort.  We  must  acquire  them,  if  ever  attained, 
by  our  own  patience  and  diligence. 

8.  Students  are  in  danger  of  neglecting  the  memory.  It 
is  too  valuable  to  be  neglected;  for,  by  it,  wonders  are 
sometimes  accomplished.  He  who  has  a  memory  that  can 
seize  with  an  iron  grasp,  and  retain  what  he  reads,  —  the 
ideas,  simply,  without  the  language,  —  and  judgment  to 
compare    and  balance,    will  scarcely  fail  of  being  distin- 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  97 

guislied.  Wliy  has  that  mass  of  thought,  observation,  and 
experience,  which  is  embodied  in  books  by  the  multitude 
of  minds  which  have  gone  before  us,  been  gathered,  if  not 
that  we  may  use  it,  and  stand  on  high  ground,  and  push 
our  Avay  still  farther  into  the  boundaries  and  regions  of 
knowledoje  ? 

9.  Let  every  student  reflect,  that  this  is  the  time  to 
form  habits,  and  to  begin  a  course  of  mental  discipline, 
which,  in  a  few  years,  will  raise  him  high  in  the  esteem 
and  the  honors  of  his  fellow-men.  Every  distinguished 
man  has  traveled  the  same  path.  There  is  no  other  road 
to  knowledge,  to  improvement,  to  distinction.  This  very 
discipline  is  the  only  thing  that  can  bring  the  mind  under 
proper  subjection. 


LESSOISr    XX. 

SELF-CULTURE. 


CHANNING. 


SELF-CULTURE  is  something  possible.  It  is  not  a 
dream.  It  has  foundations  in  our  nature.  Without 
this  conviction,  the  speaker  will  but  declaim,  and  the  hearer 
listen,  without  profit.  There  are  two  powers  of  the  human 
soul  which  make  self-culture  possible,  —  the  self -searching 
and  the  self-forming  power.  We  have  first  the  faculty  of 
turning  the  mind  on  itself;  of  recalHng  its  past  and  watch- 
ing its  present  operations  ;  of  learning  its  various  capacities 
and  susceptibilities,  —  what  it  can  do  and  bear,  what  it  can 
enjoy  and  suffer ;  and  of  thus  learning  in  general  what  our 
nature  is,  and  what  it  is  made  for. 

2.  It  is  worthy  of  observation,  that  we  are  able  to  discern 
not  only  what  we  already  are,  but  what  we  may  become  ; 
5 


98  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

to  see  in  ourselves  germs  and  promises  of  a  growth  to 
which  no  bounds  can  be  set ;  and  that,  by  using  the  powers 
which  God  has  given  us,  we  can  dart  beyond  what  we  have 
actually  gained.  But  self-culture  is  possible,  not  only  be- 
cause we  can  enter  into  and  search  ourselves,  but  because 
we  have  a  still  nobler  power ^  that  of  acting  on,  determining, 
and  formino;  ourselves.  This  is  a  fearful  as  well  as  glorious 
endowment ;  for  it  is  the  ground  of  human  responsibility. 
We  have  the  power  not  only  of  tracing  our  powers,  but  of 
guiding  and  impeUing  them  ;  not  only  of  watching  our  pas- 
sions, but  of  controlhng  them  ;  not  only  of  seeing  our  facul- 
ties grow,  but  of  applying  to  them  means  and  influences 
to  aid  their  growth. 

3.  We  can  stay  or  change  the  current  of  thought.  We 
can  concentrate  the  intellect  on  objects  which  we  wdsh  to 
comprehend.  We  can  flx  our  eyes  on  perfection,  and  make 
almost  every  thing  speed  us  toward  it.  Of  all  the  discov- 
eries which  men  need  to  make,  the  most  important,  at  the 
present  moment,  is  that  of  the  self-forming  power  treasured 
up  in  themselves.  They  little  suspect  its  extent,  —  as  little 
as  the  savage  apprehends  the  energy  which  the  mind  is 
created  to  exert  on  the  material  world.  It  transcends  in 
importance  all  our  power  over  outward  nature.  There 
is  more  divinity  in  it  than  in  the  force  which  impels 
the  outward  universe  ;  and  yet  how  little  we  compre- 
hend it !  How  it  slumbers  in  most  men  unsuspected, 
unused !  This  makes  self-culture  possible,  and  binds  it 
on  us  as  a  solemn  duty. 

4.  To  cultivate  any  thing  —  be  it  a  plant,  an  animal,  or 
a  mind  —  is  to  make  it  grow.  Growth,  expansion,  is  the 
end.  Nothing  admits  culture  but  that  which  has  a  prin- 
ciple of  life  capable  of  being  expanded.  He,  therefore, 
who   does   what   he    can    to   unfold   all   his   powers   and 


UNION  FIFTH  READEB.  99 

capacities,  especially  his  nobler  ones,  so  as  to  become  a 
well-proportioned,  vigorous,  excellent,  liappy  being,  prac- 
tices self-culture. 

5.  Self-culture  is  moral.  When  a  man  looks  into  him- 
self, he  discovers  two  distinct  orders  or  kinds  of  principles, 
which  it  behooves  him  especially  to  comprehend.  He  dis- 
covers desires,  appetites,  passions,  which  terminate  in  Mm-- 
self :  which  crave  and  seek  his  own  interest,  gratification, 
distinction  ;  and  he  discovers  another  principle,  in  opposition 
to  these,  which  is  impartial,  disin^terested,  universal,  —  en- 
joining on  him  a  regard  to  the  rights  and  happiness  of 
other  beings^  and  laying  on  him  obligations  which  must  be 
discharged,  cost  what  they  may,  or  however  they  may  clash 
with  his  particular  pleasure  or  gain. 

6.  No  man,  however  narrowed  to  his  own  interest,  how- 
ever hardened  by  selfishness,  can  deny  that  there  springs 
up  within  him  a  great  idea,  in  opposition  to  interest,  —  the 
idea  of  duty  ;  that  an  inward  voice  calls  him,  more  or  less 
distinctly,  to  revere  and  exercise  impartial  justice  and  uni- 
versal good  will.  This  disin^terested  principle  in  human 
nature  we  call  sometimes  reason^  sometimes  conscience^ 
sometimes  the  moral  sense  or  faculty. 

7.  But,  be  its  name  what  it  may,  it  is  a  real  principle  in 
each  of  us,  and  it  is  the  supreme  power  within  us,  to  be 
cultivated  above  all  others ;  for  on  its  culture  the  rio;ht 
development  of  all  others  depends.  The  passions,  indeed, 
may  be  stronger  than  the  conscience,  —  may  lift  up  a 
louder  voice  ;  but  their  clamor  differs  wholly  from  the  tone 
of  command  in  which  the  conscience  speaks.  They  are 
not  clothed  with  its  authority,  its  binding  power.  In  their 
very  triumphs  they  are  rebuked  by  the  moral  principle,  and 
often  cower  before  its  still,  deep,  menacing  voice. 

8.  No  part  of  self-knowledge  is  more  important  than  to 


100  SAiJDERS'  UNION  SEEIES. 

discern  clearly  these  two  great  principles,  —  the  self-seeking 
and  the  disiii'terested ;  and  the  most  important  part  of  self- 
cultm-e  is  to  depress  the  former  and  to  exalt  the  latter,  or  to 
enthrone  the  sense  of  duty  within  us.  There  are  no  limits 
to  the  growth  of  this  moral  force  in  man,  if  he  will  cherish 
it  faithfully.  There  have  been  men  whom  no  power  in 
the  universe  could  turn  from  the  right ;  to  whom  death,  in 
its  most  dreadful  forms,  has  been  less  dreaded  than  trans- 
gression of  the  inward  law  of  universal  justice  and  love. 


LESSONXXI. 

THE   SKATER  AND   THE  WOLVES. 

WHITEHEAD. 

DURING  the  winter  of  1844,  being  in  the  northern  part 
of  Maine,  I  had  much  leisure  to  devote  to  the  sports 
of  a  new  country.  To  none  of  these  was  I  more  passion- 
ately addicted  than  to  skating.  The  deep  and  sequestered 
lakes,  frozen  by  the  intense  cold  of  a  northern  winter,  pre- 
sent a  wide  field  to  the  lover  of  this  pastime.  Often  would 
I  bind  on  my  skates,  glide  away  up  the  glittering  river, 
and  wind  each  mazy  streamlet  that  flowed,  beneath  its 
fetters,  on  toward  the  parent  ocean,  with  exultant  joy  and 
dolight.  Sometimes  these  excursions  were  made  by  moon- 
light ;  and  it  was  on  one  of  these  latter  occasions  that  I 
had  a  rencounter,  which  even  now  I  can  not  recall  with- 
out a  thrill  of  horror. 

2.  I  had  left  my  friend's  house  one  evening  just  before 
dusk,  with  the  intention  of  skating  a  short  distance  up  the 
Kennebec,  which  glided  directly  before  the  door.  The 
night   was   beautifully   clear.      The  peerless  moon   rode 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADKll,     ,      ,  J'jdl 

through  an  occasional  fleecy  clou;d,  thi^  ;st^s,!i|:M^lr\yed*ih 
the  sky,  and  every  frost-covered  tree  and  shrub  sparkled 
with  rare  brilhancy.  Light  also  came  glinting  from  ice, 
and  snow-wreath,  and  incrusted  branches,  as  the  eye  fol- 
lowed for  miles  the  broad  gleam  of  the  river,  that,  like 
a  jeweled  zone,  swept  between  the  mighty  forests  that 
bordered  its  banks. 

3.  And  yet  all  was  still.  The  cold  seemed  to  have  frozen 
tree,  air,  water,  and  every  living  thing.  Even  the  ringing 
of  my  skates  echoed  back  from  the  hill  with  a  startling 
clearness ;  and  the  crackle  of  the  ice,  as  1  passed  over  it 
in  my  course,  seemed  to  follow  the  tide  of  the  river  with 
lightning  speed.  I  had  gone  up  the  river  nearly  two  miles, 
when,  coming  to  a  Httle  stream  which  empties  into  the 
larger,  I  turned  into  it  to  explore  its  course.  Fir  and  hem- 
lock of  a  century's  growth  met  overhead,  and  formed  an 
archway  radiant  with  frost-work.  All  was  dark  within ; 
but  I  was  young  and  fearless,  and,  as  I  peered  into  an  un- 
broken forest  that  reared  itself  on  the  borders  of  the  stream, 
I  laughed  with  very  joyousness. 

4.  My  wild  hurrah  rang  through  the  silent  woods,  and  I 
stood  listenincr  to  the  echo  that  reverberated  ao-ain  and 
again,  until  all  was  hushed.  Suddenly  a  sound  arose  !  It 
seemed  to  me  to  come  from  the  ice  beneath  my  feet.  It 
was  low  and  tremulous  at  first ;  but  it  ended  in  one  long 
wild  yell.  I  was  appalled.  Never  before  had  such  a  noise 
met  my  ears.  Presently  I  lieard  the  brushwood  on  shore 
crash,  as  though  from  the  tread  of  some  animal.  The  blood 
rushed  to  my  forehead.  My  energies  returned,  and  I 
looked  around  me  for  some  means  of  escape.  The  moon 
shone  through  the  opening,  at  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  by 
which  I  had  entered  the  forest ;  and,  considering  this  the 
best  way  of  escape,  I  darted  toward  it  like  an  arrow. 


102  r>ANDEKS'  UNION   SERIES. 

V  <  '§-.:  The  ©peiiing  was  hardly  a  hundred  yards  distant,  and 
the  swallow  could  scarcely  have  excelled  me  in  flight ; 
yet,  as  I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  shore,  I  could  see  two 
dark  objects  dashing  through  the  brushwood,  at  a  pace 
nearly  double  in  speed  to  my  own.  By  their  great  speed, 
and  the  short  yells  which  they  occasionally  gave,  I  knew 
at  once  that  these  were  the  much-dreaded  gray  wolves.  I 
had  never  met  with  these  ferocious  animals ;  but,  from  the 
description  given  of  them,  I  had  little  pleasure  in  mak- 
ing their  acquaintance.  Their  untamable  fierceness  and 
untiring  strength  render  them  objects  of  dread  to  every 
benighted  traveler. 

6.  The  bushes  that  skirted  the  shore  now  seemed  to 
rush  past  me  with  the  velocity  of  lightning,  as  I  dashed  on 
in  my  flight  to  pass  the  narrow  opening.  The  outlet  was 
nearly  gained ;  a  few  seconds  more,  and  I  would  be  com- 
paratively safe  ;  but  in  a  moment  my  pursuers  appeared  on 
the  bank  above  me,  which  here  rose  to  the  hight  of  ten  or 
twelve  feet.  There  was  no  time  for  thought.  I  bent  my 
head,  and  dashed  wildly  forward.  The  wolves  sprang  ; 
but,  miscalculating  my  speed,  fell  behind,  while  their  in- 
tended prey  glided  out  upon  the  river  I 

7.  I  turned  toward  home.  The  light  flakes  of  snow 
spun  from  the  iron  of  my  skates,  and  I  was  some  distance 
from  my  pursuers,  when  their  fierce  howl  told  me  I  was 
still  their  fugitive.  I  did  not  look  back,  nor  feel  afraid. 
I  thought  of  home,  of  the  bright  faces  awaiting  my  return, 
and  then  all  the  energies  of  body  and  mind  were  exerted 
for  escape.  I  was  perfectly  at  home  on  the  ice.  Many 
were  the  days  that  I  had  spent  on  my  good  skates,  never 
thinking  that  they  would  thus  prove  my  only  means  of 
safety  in  such  imminent  peril. 

8.  Every  half  minute  a  furious  yelp  from  my  fierce  at- 


UNION   FIFTH  KEADEK.  103 

tendants  made  me  but  too  certain  that  they  were  in  close 
pursuit.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  came.  1  heard  their  feet 
pattering  on  the  ice ;  I  even  felt  their  very  breath,  and 
heard  their  snuffing  scent !  Every  nerve  and  muscle  in 
my  frame  was  stretched  to  the  utmost  tension.  The  trees 
along  the  shore  seemed  to  dance  in  an  uncertain  light,  and 
my  brain  turned  with  my  own  breathless  speed ;  yet  still 
my  pursuers  seemed  to  hiss  forth  their  breath  with  a  sound 
truly  horrible,  when  an  involuntary  motion  on  my  part 
turned  me  out  of  my  course. 

9.  The  wolves,  close  behind,  unable  to  stop,  and  as  un- 
able to  turn  on  the  smooth  ice,  slipped  and  fell,  still  going 
on  far  ahead.  Their  tongues  were  lolling  out ;  their  white 
tusks  were  gleaming  from  their  bloody  mouths  ;  their  dark 
shaggy  breasts  were  fleeced  with  foam  ;  and,  as  they  passed 
me,  their  eyes  glared,  and  they  howled  with  friry.  The 
thought  flashed  on  my  mind,  that,  by  this  means,  I  could 
avoid  them,  —  namely,  by  turning  aside  whenever  they 
came  too  near ;  for,  by  the  formation  of  their  feet,  they  are 
unable  to  run  on  ice  except  in  a  straight  line. 

10.  I  immediately  acted  upon  this  plan.  The  wolves, 
having  regained  their  feet,  sprang  directly  toward  me. 
The  race  was  renewed  for  many  yards  up  the  stream: 
they  were  already  close  on  my  back,  when  I  glided  round 
and  dashed  directly  past  them.  A  fierce  yell  greeted  my 
evolution,  and  the  wolves,  slipping  on  their  haunches,  again 
sailed  onward,  presenting  a  perfect  picture  of  helpless- 
ness and  baffled  rage.  Thus  I  gained  nearly  a  hundred 
yards  at  each  turning.  This  was  repeated  two  or  three 
times,  every  moment  the  animals  becoming  more  ex- 
cited and  baffled. 

11.  At  one  time,  by  delaying  my  turning  too  long,  my 
sanguinary  antagonists  came  so  near  that  they  threw  their 


104  SANDEES*  UNION   SERIES. 

white  foam  over  my  dress  as  they  sprang  to  seize  me,  and 
their  teeth  clashed  together  Uke  the  spring  of  a  fox-trap ! 
Had  my  skates  failed  for  one  instant,  —  had  I  tripped  on  a 
stick,  or  had  my  foot  been  caught  in  a  fissure  of  the  ice,  — 
the  story  I  am  now  telling  would  never  have  been  told. 
I  thought  all  the  chances  over.  I  thought  how  long  it 
would  be  before  I  died,  and  then  of  the  search  for  my 
body  ;  for  oh  !  how  fast  man's  mind  traces  out  all  the  dread 
colors  of  death's  picture,  only  those,  who  have  been  near 
the  grim  original,  can  tell ! 

12.  But  I  soon  came  opposite  the  house,  and  my  hounds 
—  I  knew  their  deep  voices  —  roused  by  the  noise,  bayed 
furiously  from  their  kennels.  I  heard  their  chains  rattle : 
how  I  wished  they  would  break  them !  —  then  I  should 
have  had  protectors  to  match  the  fiercest  denizens  of  the 
forest.  The  wolves,  taking  the  hint  conveyed  by  the  dogs, 
stopped  in  their  mad  career,  and,  after  a  few  moments, 
turned  and  fled.  1  watched  them  until  their  forms  disap- 
peared over  a  neighboring  hill ;  then,  taking  off  my  skates, 
I  wended  my  way  to  the  house  with  feelings  which  may  bo 
better  imagined  than  described.  But  even  yet,  I  never 
see  a  broad  sheet  of  ice  by  moonlight  without  thinking  of 
that  snuffing  breath  and  those  ferocious  objects  that  followed 
me  so  closely  down  that  frozen  river. 


LESSON    XXII. 
PURITY    OF    CHARACTER. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 


OVER  the  beauty  of  the  plum  and  apricot  there  may  be 
seen  a  bloom  and  beauty  more  exquisite  than  the  fruit 
itself,  —  a  soft,  delicate  flush  that  overspreads  its  blushing 


UNIOK  FIFTH  llEADEE.  105 

eheek.  Now,  if  you  strike  your  Land  over  that,  and  it  is 
once  gone,  it  is  gone  forever ;  for  it  never  grows  but  once. 
The  flower  that  hangs  in  the  morning,  impearled  with  dew, 
arrayed  with  jewels,  —  once  shake  it,  so  that  the  beads 
roll  off,  and  you  may  sprinkle  water  over  it  as  you  please, 

vet  it  can  never  be  made  acrain  what  it  was  when  the  dew 

»•  ~ 

fell  lightly  upon  it  from  heaven. 

2.  On  a  frosty  morning,  you  may  see  the  panes  of 
glass  covered  with  landscapes,  mountains,  lakes,  and  trees, 
blended  in  a  beautiful,  fantastic  picture.  Now,  lay  your 
hand  upon  the  glass,  and,  by  the  scratch  of  your  fingers,  or 
by  the  warmth  of  the  palm,  all  the  delicate  tracery  will 
be  immediately  obliterated.  So^  in  youths  there  is  a  purity 
of  character^  which,  when  once  touched  and  defiled,  can 
never  be  restored,  —  a  fringe  more  delicate  than  frost- 
work, and  wliich,  when  torn  and  broken,  will  never  be 
re-embroidered. 

3.  A  man  who  has  spotted  and  soiled  his  garments  in 
youth,  though  he  may  seek  to  make  them  white  again,  can 
never  wholly  do  it,  even  were  he  to  wash  them  with  his 
tears.  When  a  young  man  leaves  his  father's  house,  with 
the  blessing  of  his  mother's  tears  still  wet  upon  his  fore- 
head, if  he  once  loses  that  early  purity  of  character,  it  is  a 
loss  that  he  can  never  make  whole  again.  Such  is  the  con- 
sequence of  crime.  Its  effects  can  not  be  eradicated ;  they 
can  only  be  forgiven. 


LESSON    XXIII. 

Al'le  go  rt  is  a  word  of  Greek  origin.  It  is  made  up  of  two  parts,— 
ALL,  other ;  and  egory,  discourse ;  the  literal  meaning  of  the  compound 
being  discourse  about  other  things ;  that  is,  things  other  than  those  ex- 
pressed by  the  words,  literally  interpreted.     Allegory  is,  therefore,  the 


106  SANDERS'   UKIOK  SERIES. 

general  name  for  that  class  of  compositions,  as  Fables,  Apologues,  Para' 
hies,  and  Myths,  in  which  there  is  a  double  meaning,  one  literal  and  the 
Qthiiv  figurative ;  the  literal  being  designed  merely  to  give  a  more  clear 
and  impressive  view  of  that  wliich  is  figurative. 

*Shak'speare,  William,  was  born  in  Stratford  on  the  Avon,  England, 
April,  1564;  and  died  1616.  He  is  accounted,  by  all,  the  greatest  dra- 
matic writer  of  any  age.  He  has  been  styled  the  Poet  of  Nature,  the 
poet  who  holds  up  to  his  readers  the  mirror  of  manners  and  of  life. 

•Ho'mer,  the  great  Grecian  poet,  flourished  about  nine  hundred  years  b& 
fore  the  Christian  era.  He  is  supposed  to  have  been  a  strolling  bard> 
poor  and  blind.  His  chief  works  are  the  "  Iliad  "  and  the  "  Odvssey." 
The  Iliad  is  a  poem  descriptive  of  the  siege  of  Troy,  in  Asia  Minor ; 
and  the  Odyssey  describes  the  wanderings  of  Ulysses  on  his  return 
from  Troy  to  his  own  kingdom  in  the  Island  of  Ithaca. 

THE  THREE   SISTERS. 

AN  ALLEGORY.! 


'M 


ADAM  Virtue  and  Miss  Genius, 
With  their  sister,  Reputation, 
Traveled  once  througli  foreign  countries, 
On  a  tour  of  observation. 


2.  Ere  they  started,  Genius  hinted  / 

That,  by  some  unlucky  blunder, 
While  they  journeyed  through  the  kingdoms, 
They  might  chance  to  get  asunder ; 

3.  ''And,"  she  said,  "  it  seems  but  prudent. 

Should  we  break  our  pleasant  tether, 
Some  device  should  be  suggested 
That  may  bring  us  three  together. 

4.  "As  for  me^  if,  from  my  sisters, 

I  should  chance  to  prove  a  roamer. 

Seek  me  at  the  tomb  of  Shakspeare,'^ 

Or  before  the  shrine  of  Homer."  ^ 


tTNION  f  IFTH   READEE.  107 

Virtue  said,  "  If  I  am  missing, 

And  you  deem  me  worth  the  trouble, 

Seek  me  in  the  courts  of  monarchs, 
Or  the  dwelhno;s  of  the  noble. 


6.  "If,  among  the  high  and  mighty, 

You  shall  fail  to  find  me  present, 
You  may  meet  with  better  fortune 
In  the  cottage  of  the  peasant.'* 

7.  "  Ah  ! "  said  Reputation,  sighing, 

'^  It  is  easy  of  discerning. 
Each  of  you  may  freely  wander 
With  a  prospect  of  returning ! 

8.  "But,  I  pray  youy  guard  me  closely ; 

For,  despite  your  best  endeavor, 
If  you  miss  me  for  a  moment, 

I  am  lost,  —  AND  LOST  forever!" 


LESSON    XXIY. 

*  Mil'  ton,  Joh\,  one  of  the  great  poets  of  Eno^land,  was  born  in  London. 
Dec.  9,  1608,  and  died  Nov.  8,  1675.  His  life  was  }3ure  and  spiritual. 
His  sympathies  and  best  efforts  were  freely  given  to  all  the  noblest 
interests  of  humaniLy.  He  hated  every  form  of  oppression,  was  the 
eloquent  advocate  of  the  freedom  of  the  press,  and  the  bold  champion 
of  human  rights.  When  fifty-six  years  of  age,  he  became  totally  blind. 
He  now  sat  down  in  poverty,  affliction,  and  obscurity,  to  work  out  the 
immortality  Avhich  had  been  the  object  of  his  earliest  aspirations.  His 
latter  years  were  employed  in  the  compositions  of  "  Paradise  Lost " 
and  "  Paradise  Regained." 


108  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

'  How''  ARD,  JoHNT,  a  celebrated  English  philanthropist,  was  born  1726,  and 
died  1790,  from  a  malignant  fever  caught  in  visiting  a  sufferer.  He 
did  much  to  reform  the  prisons  and  hospitals  of  Europe. 

^  Har'  vey,  William,  a  celebrated  physician,  was  born  in  England,  1.578, 
and  died  1657.  He  was  the  discoverer  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood, 
of  which  he  published  an  account  in  1628. 

*  Marl'  bor  odgh,  John  Churchill,  afterwards  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 

ough, was  the  greatest  general  England  ever  produced  before  the 
Duke  of  Wellington,  and  one  of  the  greatest  of  modern  Europe.  He 
was  bom  at  Ashton,  July  5,  1650,  and  died  Aug.  6,  1722. 

*  Wel'  ling  ton,  Arthur  Wellesley,  Duke  of  Wellington,  was  born  in 

Ireland,  May  1,  1769,  and  died  1852.  He  is  regarded  as  the  greatest 
English  general.  He  won  the  battle  of  Waterloo  against  Napoleoa 
in  1815. 

DESERVE  IT  I 

ANON. 

1.  "VTE  'ER  droop  your  head  upon  your  hand, 
l.\    And  wail  the  bitter  times  ; 

The  self-same  bell 
That  tolls  a  knell 
Can  ring  out  merry  chimes. 
And  we  have  still  the  elements 
That  made  up  fame  of  old  , 
The  wealth  to  prize 
WitJiin  us  lies, 
And  not  in  senseless  gold. 
Yes  ;  there  exists  a  certain  plan, 

If  you  will  but  obsers^e  it, 

That  opes  success  to  any  man  ; 

The  secret  is  —  deserve  it ! 

2.  What  use  to  stand  by  Fortune's  hill 

And  idly  sigh  and  mope  ? 

Its  sides  are  rough. 

And  steep  enough, 
'Tis  true  ;  but  if  you  hope 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  109 

To  battle  'gainst  impediments 
That  rudely  stop  your  way, 
Go  boldly  to't ; 
Strike  at  the  root : 
You'll  sui-ely  gain  the  day. 
Prate  not  about  new-fangled  plans,  — 

Mine's  best,  if  you'll  observe  it : 
I  say  success  is  any  man's 
If  he  will  but  deserve  it ! 

3.  Homer  and  Milton  ^  reign  supreme 

With  Shakspeare  —  worthy  band  ; 
And  How^ard's^  name, 
And  Harvey's^  claim. 
Are  sung  throughout  the  land ; 
And  Marlborough^  and  Wellington* 
Illustrious  stand  in  fight ; 

And  Newton  gleams 
Amid  the  beams 
Gf  an  undying  light ! 
What  did  they  do  to  gain  a  name  ? 

What  did  they  to  preserve  it 
With  an  untarnished,  deathless  fame  ? 
They  simply  did — deserve  it! 

4.  And  thus  may  you  —  and  you  —  and  you  — 

From  depths  the  most  profound, 

Your  wishes  teach 

Success  to  reach 
Up  to  the  topmost  round. 
But  if,  from  some  unreckoned  cause, 
(Say,  market  overstocked,) 

Your  hoped-for  spoil 

Pay  others'  toil. 


110  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

Think  not  your  efforts  mocked  : 
If  Fortune's  smile  so  faintly  beam 

That  you  can  scarce  preserve  it, 
Remember,  there  is  One  above. 

Who  knows  that  you  deserve  it! 


LESSON    XXV. 

THE   BRIDAL  WINE-CUP. 

"  T)LEDGE  with  wine  —  pledge  with  wine!"  cried  the 

X  young  and  thoughtless  Harvey.  "  Pledge  with 
wine!"  ran  through  the  bridal  party. 

The  beautiful  bride  grew  pale.  She  pressed  her  hands 
together,  and  the  leaves  of  her  bridal  wreath  trembled  on 
her  brow ;  her  breath  came  quicker,  and  her  heart  beat 
wilder. 

"  Yes,  Marion,  lay  aside  your  scruples  for  this  once," 
said  the  judge,  in  a  low  tone,  "  the  company  expect  it.  Do 
not  so  seriously  infringe  upon  the  iniles  of  etiquette :  *  in 
your  own  home  do  as  you  please ;  but  in  mine^  for  this 
once,  please  me." 

2.  Every  eye  was  turned  toward  the  bridal  pair.  Mar- 
ion's principles  were  well  known.  Harvey  had  been  a 
convivialist ;  but  of  late  his  friends  noticed  the  change  hi 
his  manners,  and  the  difference  in  his  habits. 

Pouring  a  brimming  cup,  they  held  it  with  tempting 
smiles  toward  Marion.  She  was  very  pale,  though  now 
more  composed.  Smiling,  she  accepted  the  crystal  tempter, 
and  raised  it  to  her  lips.     But  scarcely  had  she  done  so, 

*  Pronounced  Et  i  hetf. 


UNION  FIFTH  REABEE.  Ill 

when  every  liand  was  arrested  by  her  piercing  exclama- 
tion of  "OA,  how  terrible!'' 

"What  is  it?"  cried  one  and  all,  thronging  together; 
for  she  had  slowly  carried  the  glass  at  arm's-length, 
and  was  reo-arding:  it  as  though  it  was  some  hideous 
object. 

8.  "Wait,"  she  answered,  "wait,  and  I  will  tell  you.  I 
see,"  she  added,  slowly  pointing  one  of  her  jeweled  fingers 
at  the  sparkling  liquid,  "  a  sight  that  beggars  all  descrip- 
tion ;  and  yet  listen,  —  I  will  paint  it  for  you,  if  I  can.  It 
is  a  lovely  spot ;  tall  mountains,  crowded  with  verdure, 
rise  in  awful  sublimity  around*  a  river  runs  through,  and 
bright  flowers  grow  to  the  water's  edge.  There  is  a  thick, 
warm  mist  that  the  sun  seeks  vainly  to  pierce.  Trees, 
lofty  and  beautiful,  wave  to  the  motion  of  the  breeze. 
But  there  a  group  of  Indians  gather,  and  flit  to  and  fro 
with  something  like  sorrow  upon  their  dark  brows ;  and 
in  their  midst  lias  a  manly  form  —  but  his  cheek,  how 
deathly !  —  his  eyes,  how  wildly  they  glare  around  with 
the  fitfal  fire  of  fever ! 

4.  "  One  friend  stands  beside  him,  —  I  should  say  kneels, 
—  for  see  !  he  is  pillowing  that  poor  head  upon  his  breast. 
Genius  in  ruins  on  the  high,  holy-looking  brow !  Why 
should  Death  mark  it,  and  he  so  young  ?  Look  !  how  he 
throws  back  the  damp  curls !  See  him  clasp  his  hands ! 
hear  his  shrieks  for  life !  how  he  clutches  at  the  form  of 
his  companion,  imploring  to  be  saved !  Oh,  hear  him  call 
piteously  his  father's  name !  see  him  twine  his  fingers 
together,  as  he  shrieks  for  his  sister,  —  the  twin  of  his 
soul,  —  weeping  for  him  in  his  distant  native  land  !  See ! 
his  arms  are  lifted  to  Heaven !  how  wildly  he  prays  for 
mercy  !  But  fever  rushes  through  his  veins.  The  friend 
beside    him    is   weeping !      Awe-stricken,  the    dark    men 


112  SANDEKS'  UNION   SERIES. 

move    silently    away,    and    leave    the     living    and    the 
dying  together!" 

5.  There  was  a  hush  in  that  princely  parlor,  broken 
only  by  what  seemed  a  smothered  sob  from  some  manly 
bosom.  The  bride  stood  yet  upright,  with  quivering  lip, 
and  tears  streaming  down  her  pallid  cheek.  Her  arm  had 
lost  its  extension ;  and  the  glass,  with  its  contents,  came 
slowly  toward  the  range  of  her  vision.  She  spoke  again. 
Every  lip  was  mute  ;  her  voice  was  low,  faint,  yet  distinct. 
Still  she  fixed  her  sorrowful  glance  upon  the  wine-cup. 

"  It  is  evening  now :  the  great  white  moon  is  coming 
up,  and  her  beams  fall  gently  on  his  forehead.  He  moves 
not;  his  eyes  are  rolUng  in  their  sockets,  and  dim  are 
the  piercing  glances,  (jt?.)  In  vain  his  friend  whispers  the 
name  of  father  and  sister.  No  soft  hand  and  no  gentle 
voice  bless  and  soothe  him.  His  head  sinks  back ;  one 
convulsive  shudder — he  is  dead!" 

6.  A  groan  ran  through  the  assembly.  So  vivid  was 
her  description,  so  unearthly  her  look,  so  inspired  her  man- 
ner, that  what  she  described  seemed  actually  to  have  taken 
place  then  and  there.  They  noticed,  also,  that  the  bride- 
groom had  hid  his  face,  and  was  weeping. 

(j9^.)  "Dead!"  she  repeated  again,  her  lips  quivering 
faster,  and  her  voice  more  broken,  —  "and  there  they 
scoop  him  a  grave  ;  and  there,  without  a  shroud,  they  lay 
him  down  in  the  damp,  reeking  earth,  —  the  only  son  of  a 
proud  father,  the  idolized  brother  of  a  fond  sister ;  and  he 
sleeps  to-day,  in  that  distant  country,  with  no  stone  to 
mark  the  spot.  There  he  lies,  —  my  father  s  son,  my  own 
twin-brother,  —  a  victim  of  this  deadly  poison!  Fptiier," 
she  exclaimed,  turning  suddenly,  while  the  tear^  rolled 
down  her  beautiful  cheeks,  —  "father,  shall  I  drink  the 
poison  now'?" 


.  UNION  FIFTH   EEADER.  113 

7.  The  form  of  the  judge  was  convulsed  with  agony. 
He  raised  not  his  head ;  but,  in  a  smothered  voice,  he 
faltered,  —  ''  No,  no,  my  child  I  —  for  Heaven's  sake, 
no!" 

She  lifted  the  ghttering  goblet,  and,  letting  it  fall  sud- 
denly to  the  floor,  it  was  dashed  to  pieces.  Many  a  tear- 
ful eye  watched  her  movement,  and  instantaneously  every 
glass  was  transferred  to  the  marble  table.  Then,  as  she 
looked  at  the  fragments  of  crystal,  she  turned  to  the  com- 
pany, saying, — 

*'  Let  no  friend  hereafter,  who  loves  me,  tempt  me  to 
peril  my  soul  for  wine,  or  any  other  poisonous  venom. 
Not  firmer  are  the  everlasting  hills  than  my  resolve,  God 
helping  me,  never  to  touch  or  taste  the  tei^rihle  poison.  And 
hey  to  whom  I  have  given  my  hand  —  who  wat-ched  over 
my  brother's  dying  form  in  that  land  of  gold  —  will  sustain 
me  in  this  resolve.     Will  you  not,  my  husband?  " 

8.  His  glistening  eyes,  his  sad,  sweet  smile,  was  his 
answer.  The  judge  had  left  the  room ;  but  when  he  re- 
turned, and,  with  a  more  subdued  manner,  took  part  in  the 
entertainment  of  the  bridal  guests,  no  one  could  fail  to  see 
that  hsy  too,  had  determined  to  banish  the  enemy  at  once 
and  forever  from  that  princely  home. 

Reader,  this  is  no  fiction.  J  was  there  and  heard  the 
words,  which  I  have  penned,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect 
them.  This  bride,  her  husband,  and  her  brother  who  died 
in  the  gold  regions  of  California,  v/ere  schoolmates  of  mine. 
Those  who  were  present  at  that  wedding  of  my  associates 
never  forgot  the  impression  so  solemnly  made,  and  all^  from 
that  hour,  forsook  the  social  glass, 
8 


114  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 


LESSON    XXYL 


En  thu'si  asm,  (from  two  Greek  words,  ex,  in,  or  ■within;  and  theos,  a 
god;)  signifies,  literally,  the  state  or  condition  of  having  a  god  within 
us ;  that  is,  being  under  the  inspiration  of  a  god :  hence,  strong  mental 
excitement ;  ardent  feeling. 

DESOLATING  EFFECTS  OF  INTEMPERANCE. 

W.   IRVING. 

THE  depopulating  pestilence  that  walketli  at  noon-da j, 
the  carnage  of  cruel  and  devastating  war,  can  scarcely 
exhibit  their  victims  in  a  more  terrible  array,  than  exter- 
minating drunkenness.  I  have  seen  a  promising  family 
spring  from  a  parent  trunk,  and  stretch  abroad  its  popu- 
lous limbs,  like  a  flowering  tree  covered  with  green  and 
healthy  foliage.  I  have  seen  the  unnatural  decay  begin- 
ning upon  the  yet  tender  leaf,  and  gnawing  like  a  worm 
in  an  unopened  bud,  while  they  dropped  off,  one  by  one, 
and  the  scathed  and  ruined  shaft  stood  desolate  and  alone, 
until  the  winds  and  rains  of  many  a  sorrow  laid  that, 
too,  in  the  dust. 

2.  On  one  of  those  holy  days  when  the  patriarch,  rich 
in  virtue  as  in  years,  gathered  about  him  the  great  and  the 
little  ones  of  the  flock  —  his  sons  with  their  sons,  and  his 
daughters  with  their  daughters  —  I,  too,  sat  at  the  festive 
board.  I,  too,  pledged  them  in  the  social  wine-cup,  and 
rejoiced  with  them  round  the  hospitable  hearth,  and  ex- 
patiated with  delight  upon  the  eventful  future ;  while  the 
good  old  man,  warmed  in  the  genial  glow  of  youthful 
enthusiasm,^  wiped  the  tear  of  joy  from  his  glistening  eye. 
He  was  happy ! 

3.  I  met  with  them  again  when  the  rolling  year  brought 
the  festive  season  round.  But  they  were  not  all  there. 
The  kind  old  man  sighed  as  his  suffused  eye  dwelt  upon 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  115 

the  then  unoccupied  seat.  But  joy  yet  came  to  his  relief, 
and  he  was  happy.  A  parent's  love  knows  no  diminu- 
tion,—  time,  distance,  poverty,  shame,  but  give  intensity 
and  strength  to  that  passion,  before  which  all  others  dis- 
solve and  melt  away. 

4.  Another  elai)sed.  The  board  was  spread ;  but  the 
gnests  came  not.  The  old  man  cried,  —  ''Where  are  my 
childrenf''  And  Echo  answered, — '•'Wheref^  His  heart 
broke ;  for  they  were  not.  Could  not  Heaven  have  spared 
his  gray  hairs  this  affliction'  ?  Alas  !  the  demon  of  Drunk- 
enness had  been  there  !  They  had  fallen  victims  to  his 
spell.  And  one  short  month  sufficed  to  cast  the  vail  of 
oblivion  over  the  old  man's  sorrow,  and  the  young  men's 
shame.  — -  They  are  all  dead  ! 


LESSON    XXVII. 

Ei/lo  gt,  (eu,  well;  logy,  a  speaking;)  signifies  a  speaking  well  of,  that 
is,  a  speech  in  praise  of  some  particular  person  or  thing ;  a  laudatory 
address.     See  Sanders'  Analyzer,  page  74. 

EULOGY!   ON   COLD  WATER. 

PAUL    DENTON. 

The  following  eloquent  speech  was  delivered  by  Paul  Denton,  a  mission- 
ary of  the  M.  E.  Church  in  Texas,  at  a  barbecue  camp-meeting,  many  years 
ago.  In  a  previous  notice  of  the  meeting,  the  preacher  had  announced  that 
preparations  would  be  made  to  suit  all  tastes,  —  that  there  would  be  "  a 
splendid  barbecue,  better  liquor,  and  the  best  of  gospel."  After  partaking 
of  the  repast,  a  voice  was  heard  to  exclaim,  —  "Paul  Denton,  wha'e  is  (he 
liquor  you  promised  us  ?  "     To  which  he  made  the  following  reply  :  — 

"  fTlHERE,"  replied  the  speaker,  pointing  to  a  sparkling 

JL    fountain  that  bubbled  up  from  the  mountain's  base, 

"  THERE  is  the  liquor  which  God,  the  Eternal,  brews  for 

all  his  children  !     Not  in  the  simmering  still,  over  smoking 


116  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

fires,  choked  with  poisonous  gases,  and  surrounded  with 
the  stench  of  sickening  odors  and  rank  corruption,  doth 
your  Father  in  Heaven  prepare  the  precious  essence  of 
hfe  —  Pure  Cold  Water  ! 

2.  "  But  in  the  green  glades  and  grassy  dell,  where  the 
red  deer  wanders,  and  the  child  loves  to  play,  there  God 
Himself  brews  it ;  and  down,  low  down  in  the  deepest  val- 
leys, where  the  fountains  murmur,  and  the  rills  sing  ;  and 
high  upon  the  mountain-tops,  where  the  naked  granite 
glitters  like  gold  in  the  sun,  where  the  storm-cloud  broods, 
and  the  thunder-storms  crash  ;  and  away  far  out  on  the 
wide,  wide  sea,  where  the  hurricane  howls  music,  and 
big  waves  roar  the  chorus,  '  sweeping  the  march  of  God ! ' 
THERE  He  brews  it,  that  beverage  of  life,  health-giving 
water  ! 

3.  "  And  everywhere  it  is  a  thing  of  beauty :  gleaming 
in  the  dew-drop ;  singing  in  the  summer-rain  ;  shining  in 
the  ice-gem,  till  the  trees  seem  turned  to  living  jewels ; 
spreading  a  golden  vail  over  the  setting  sun,  or  a  white 
gauze  around  the  midnight  moon  ;  sporting  in  the  cata- 
ract ;  sleeping  in  the  glacier  ;  glancing  in  the  hail-shower  ; 
folding  bright  snow-curtains  softly  above  the  wintery  world, 
and  weaving  the  many-colored  rainbow  —  that  seraph's 
zone  of  the  sky,  whose  warp  is  the  rain  of  earth,  whose 
woof  is  the  sunbeam  of  heaven,  all  checkered  over  with 
celestial  flowers  by  the  mystic  hand  of  refraction ;  still 
always  it  is  beautiful^  that  blessed  cold  ivater ! 

4.  "  No  poison  bubbles  on  its  brink  ;  its  foam  brings  not 
madness  and  murder  ;  no  blood  stains  its  liquid  glass  ;  pale 
widows  and  starving  orphans  weep  not  burning  tears  in  its 
clear  depths  ;  no  drunkard's  shrieking  ghost  from  the  grave 
curses  it  in  words  of  despair  !  But  everywhere^  diffusing  all 
around  life,  vigor,  and  happiness,  it  is  the  purest  emblem 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  117 

of  the  Water  of  Life,  of  wliich,  if  a  man  drink,  he  shall 
never  thirst.  Speak  out,  my  friends  ;  would  you  excha7ige 
it  for  the  demon'' s  drink,  alcohol'  f''  A  shout,  like  the  roar 
of  a  tempest,  answered,  —  "  No  !  " 


LESSON    XXVIII. 

PROFANENESS. 

E.  H.  CHAPIX. 

PROFANENESS  is  a  low,  groveling  vice.  He  who  indul- 
ges it  is  no  gentleman.  I  care  not  what  his  stamp  may 
be  in  society,  —  I  care  not  what  clothes  he  wears,  or  what 
culture  he  boasts,  —  despite  all  his  refinement,  the  light 
and  habitual  taking  of  God's  name  in  vaiii  betrays  a  coarse 
nature  and  a  brutal  will. 

2.  Profaneness  is  an  unmanly  and  silly  vice.  It  certainly 
is  not  a  grace  in  conversation  ;  and  it  adds  no  strength  to 
it.  There  is  no  organic  symmetry  in  the  narrative  which 
is  ingrained  with  oaths ;  and  the  blasphemy  which  bolsters 
an  opinion  does  not  make  it  any  more  correct.  Nay,  the 
use  of  profane  oaths  argues  a  limited  range  of  ideas,  and  a 
consciousness  of  being  on  the  wrong  side ;  and,  if  we  can 
find  no  other  ])hrases  through  which  to  vent  our  choking 
passian,  we  had  better  repress  that  passion. 

3.  Profaneness  is  a  mean  vice.  It  indicates  the  grossest 
ingratitude.  According  to  general  estimation,  he  who  re- 
pays kindness  Avitli  contumely,  he  who  abuses  his  friend 
and  benefactor,  is  deemed  pitiful  and  wretched.  And  yet, 
O  profaYie  one!  Avhose  name  is  it  you  handle  so  lightly  ? 
It  is  that  of  your  best  Benefactor !  You,  whose  blood 
would  boil  to  hear  the  venerable  names  of  your  earthly 


118  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

parents  hurled  about  in  scoffs  and  jests,  abuse,  without 
compunction  and  without  thought,  the  name  of  your  Heav- 
enly Father ! 

4.  Profaneness  is  an  awful  vice!  Once  more,  I  ask, 
whose  name  is  it  you  so  lightly  use  ?  That  holy  name  of 
God !  Have  you  ever  pondered  its  meaning'  ?  Have  you 
ever  thought  what  it  is  that  you  mingle  thus  with  your 
])assion  and  your  wit'  ?  It  is  the  name  of  Him  whom 
the  angels  worship,  whom  the  Heaven  of  heavens  can  not 
contain  ! 

5.  Profane  young  man !  though  habit  be  ever  so  strin- 
gent with  you,  when  the  word  of  mockery  and  of  blas- 
phemy is  about  to  leap  from  your  lips,  think  of  these 
considerations,  think  of  God,  and,  instead  of  that  wicked 
oath,  cry  out  in  reverent  prayer,  —  "Hallowed  be  Thy 
Name!'' 


LESSON    XXIX. 

^  Sa'  bi  an,  of  or  pertaining  to  Saba,  an  ancient  town  of  Arabia,  celebrated 
for  frankincense,  myrrh,  and  aromatic  plants. 

VOICES    OF    GOD. 

LON.   BRIT.  MAGAZINE. 

1.  rilHERE  are  voices  of  God  for  the  careless  ear,  — 
X   A  low-breathed  whisper  when  none  is  near ; 
111  the  silent  watch  of  the  night's  calm  hours, 
When  the  dews  are  at  rest  in  the  deep-sealed  flowers ; 
When  the  wings  of  the  zephyr  are  folded  up, 
When  the  violet  bendeth  its  azure  cup ; 
'Tis  a  breath  of  reproval  —  a  murmuring  tone, 
Like  music  remembered,  or  ecstasies  ixone. 


UN  J  ON  FIFTH  HEADER.  119 

2.  'Tis  a  voice  that  sweeps  through  the  evening  sky, 
When  the  clouds  o'er  the  pale  moon  are  hurrying  by  ; 
While  the  fickle  gusts,  as  they  come  and  go. 

Wake  the  forest  boughs  on  the  mountain's  brow ; 
It  speaks  in  the  shadows  that  swiftly  pass,  — 
In  the  waves  that  are  roused  from  the  lake's  clear  glass, 
Where  the  summer  shores,  in  their  verdant  pride, 
Were  pictured  but  late  in  the  stainless  tide. 

3.  And  that  voice  breaks  out  in  the  tempest's  flight. 
When  the  wild  winds  sweep  in  their  fearful  might ; 
When  the  hghtnings  go  forth  on  the  hills  to  play. 
As  they  pass  on  their  pinions  of  fire  away ; 
While  they  fiercely  smile  through  the  dusky  sky, 
As  the  thunder-peals  to  their  glance  reply ; 

As  the  bolts  leap  out  from  the  somber  cloud. 
While  midnight  whirlwinds  sing  wild  and  loud  1 

4.  'Tis  a  voice  which  comes  in  the  early  morn. 
When  the  matin  hymns  of  the  birds  are  born ; 
It  steals  from  the  fold  of  the  painted  cloud,  — 
From  the  forest  draperies,  sublime  and  proud ! 
Its  tones  are  blent  with  the  runtiing  stream. 
As  it  sweeps  along,  like  a  changeful  dream. 

In  its  light  and  shade,  through  the  checkered  vale, 
While  the  uplands  are  fanned  by  the  viewless  gale. 

5.  In  the  twilight  hour,  when  the  weary  bird 
On  its  nest  is  sleeping,  that  voice  is  heard ; 

While  mist-robes  are  drawn  o'er  the  green  earth's  breast^ 
And  the  sun  hath  gone  down  from  the  faded  west ; 
In  the  hush  of  that  silence  —  when  winds  are  still. 
And  the  light  wakes  no  smile  in  the  babbling  rill ; 
Through  the  wonderful  depths  of  the  purple  air, 
O'er  the  landscape  trembling  —  that  voice  is  there-* 


120  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

6.  There  are  whispers  of  God  in  the  cataract's  roar,  — 
In  the  sea's  rude  wail  on  its  sounding  sliore,  — 

In  the  waves  tliat  melt  on  her  azure  isles, 

Where  the  sunny  south  on  their  verdure  smiles,  — 

In  the  ocean-ward  wind  from  the  orange  trees, 

In  the  Sabian^  odors  that  load  the  breeze ; 

'Midst  the  incense  that  floats  from  Arabia's  strand, 

That  tone  is  there,  with  its  whispers  bland  I 

7.  And  it  saith  to  the  cold  and  the  careless  heart, 
How  long  wilt  thou  turn  from  "  the  better  part "  ? 

I  have  called  fi'om  the  infinite  depths  of  heaven, — 
I  have  called,  —  but  no  answer  to  me  was  given  ; 
From  many  a  hallowed  and  glorious  spot, 
I  have  called  by  my  Spirit,  —  and  ye  would  not ! 
Thou  art  far  from  the  haven,  and  tempest-tossed,  — 
Hear  the  cry  of  thy  Pilot ^  or  thou  art  lost! 


LESSON    XXX 
BETTER    THAN     GOLD. 


1.   "HETTER  than  grandeur,  better  than  gold, 
\  I   Than  rank  and  titles,  a  thousand  fold. 
Is  a  healthy  hody^  a  mind  at  ease, 
And  simple  pleasures  that  always  please  ;  — 
A  heart  that  can  feel  for  another's  woe. 
And  share  his  joys  with  a  genial  glow, 
AYith  sympathies  large  enough  to  infold 
All  men  as  brothers,  is  better  than  gold. 


UNION  FIFTH  RE  A  DEB.  121 

2.  Better  than  gold  is  a  conscience  clear^ 
Though  toilmg  for  bread  in  a  humble  sphere  ; 
Doubly  blessed  with  content  and  health, 
Untried  by  the  lusts  or  cares  of  wealth ; 
Lowly  living  and  lofty  thought 

Adorn  and  ennoble  a  poor  man's  cot ; 
For  mind  and  morals,  in  Nature's  plan, 
Are  the  genuine  test  of  a  gentleman. 

3.  Better  than  gold  is  the  sweet  repose 

Of  the  sons  of  toil  when  their  labors  close ; 

Better  than  gold  is  a  poor  man's  sleep, 

And  the  balm  that  drops  on  his  slumber  deep. 

Bring  sleeping  draughts  to  the  downy  bed 

Where  Luxury  pillows  his  aching  head ; 

His  simple  opiate  labor  deems 

A  shorter  road  to  the  land  of  dreams. 

4.  Better  than  gold  is  a  thinJdng  mind. 
That,  in  the  realm  of  books,  can  find 
A  treasure  surpassing  Australian  ore, 
And  live  with  the  great  and  good  of  yore. 
The  sage's  lore,  and  the  poet's  lay, 

The  glories  of  empires  passed  away. 

The  world's  great  drama,  will  thus  unfold. 

And  yield  a  pleasure  better  than  gold. 

5.  Better  than  gold  is  a  peaceful  home. 
Where  all  the  fireside  charities  come,  — 
The  shrine  of  love,  the  heaven  of  life. 
Hallowed  by  mother,  or  sister,  or  wife. 
However  humble  the  home  may  be. 

Or  tried  with  sorrow  by  Heaven's  decree, 
The  blessings  that  never  were  bought  or  sold. 
And  center  there,  are  better  than  gold. 


122  SANDEliS'  UNION  SERIES. 


LESSON    XXXI. 
THE   ANGEL   OF   THE  LEAVES:    An   Allegory. 

HANNAH  F.   GOULD. 

*'  A  LAS  !  alas  !  "  said  the  sorrowing  Tree,  "  my  beautiful 
J\.  robe  is  gone  !  It  has  been  torn  from  me.  Its  faded 
pieces  whirl  upon  the  wind ;  they  rustle  beneath  the  squir- 
rel's foot,  as  he  searches  for  his  nut.  They  float  upon  the 
passing  stream,  and  on  the  quivering  lake.  Woe  is  me  ! 
for  my  fair,  green  vesture  is  gone.  It  was  the  gift  of  the 
Angel  of  the  Leaves !  I  have  lost  it,  and  my  glory  has 
vanished ;  my  beauty  has  disappeared.  My  summer  hours 
have  passed  away.  My  bright  and  comely  garment,  alas  I 
it  is  rent  in  a  thousand  parts. 

2.  "  Who  will  weave  me  such  another  ?  Piece  by  piece, 
it  has  been  stripped  from  me.  Scarcely  did  I  sigh  for  the 
loss  of  one,  ere  another  wandered  off*  on  the  air.  The 
sound  of  music  cheers  me  no  more.  The  birds  that  sang 
in  my  bosom  were  dismayed  at  my  desolation.  They 
have  flown  away  with  their  songs. 

3.  "  I  stood  in  my  pride.  The  sun  brightened  my  robe 
with  his  smile.  The  zephyrs  breathed  softly  through  its 
glossy  folds ;  the  clouds  strewed  pearls  among  them.  My 
shadow  was  wide  upon  the  earth.  My  arms  spread  far 
on  the  gentle  air ;  my  head  was  lifted  high ;  my  fore- 
head was  fair  to  the  heavens.  But  now,  how  changed ! 
Sadness  is  upon  me  ;  my  head  is  shorn,  my  arms  are 
stripped ;  I  can  not  now  throw  a  shadow  on  the  ground. 
Beauty  has  departed  ;  gladness  is  gone  out  of  my  bosom  ; 
the  blood  has  retired  from  my  heart,  it  has  sunk  into  the 
earth. 

4.  "  I  am  thirsty;  I  am  cold.  My  naked  limbs  shiver  in 
the  chilly  air.     The  keen  blast  comes  pitiless  among  them. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  123 

The  winter  is  coming ;  I  am  destitute.  SorroAv  is  my  por- 
tion. Mourning  must  wear  me  away.  How  shall  I  ac- 
count to  the  Angel  who  clothed  me,  for  the  loss  of  his 
beautiful  gift?" 

5.  The  Angel  had  been  hstening.  In  soothing  accents  he 
answered  the  lamentation.  ''  My  beloved  Tree,"  said  he, 
"  be  comforted.  I  am  with  thee  still,  though  every  leaf 
has  forsaken  thee.  The  voice  of  gladness  is  hushed  among 
thy  boughs  ;  but  let  my  whisper  console  thee.  Thy  sorrow 
is  but  for  a  season.  Trust  in  me  ;  keep  my  promise  in  thy 
heart.  Be  patient  and  full  of  hope.  Let  the  words  I 
leave  with  thee  abide  and  cheer  thee  through  the  coming 
winter.     Then  I  will  return  and  clothe  thee  anew. 

6.  "  The  storm  will  drive  over  thee,  the  snow  will  sift 
through  thy  naked  limbs.  But  these  Avill  be  light  and 
passing  afflictions.  The  ice  will  weigh  heavily  on  thy  help- 
less arms  ;  but  it  shall  soon  dissolve  into  tears."  It  shall  pass 
into  the  ground,  and  be  drunken  by  thy  roots.  Then  it 
will  creep  up  in  secret  beneath  thy  bark.  It  will  spread 
into  the  branches  it  has  oppressed,  and  help  me  to  adorn 
them ;  for  I  shall  be  here  to  use  it. 

7.  "  Thy  blood  has  now  only  retired  for  safety.  The 
frost  would  chill  and  destroy  it.  Earth  will  not  rob  her 
offspring.  She  is  a  careful  parent.  She  knows  the  wants 
of  all  her  children,  and  forgets  not  to  provide  for  the  least 
of  them. 

8.  *'  The  sap,  that  has  for  a  while  gone  down,  will  make 
thy  roots  strike  deeper  and  spread  wider.  It  will  then  re^ 
turn  to  nourish  thy  heart.  It  will  be  renewed  and  strength- 
ened. Then,  if  thou  shalt  have  remembered  and  trusted  in 
my  promise,  I  will  fulfill  it.  Buds  shall  shoot  forth  on 
every  side  of  thy  boughs.  I  will  unfold  for  thee  another 
robe.     I  will  paint  it  and  f)t  it  in  every  ]:)art.     It  shall  be  a 


124  SANDERS'  UKION  SERIES. 

comely  raiment.  Thou  shalt  forget  thy  present  sorrow. 
Sadness  shall  be  swallowed  up  in  joy.  Now,  my  beloved 
Tree,  fare  thee  well  for  a  season  !  " 

9.  The  Angel  was  gone.  The  muttering  winter  drew 
near.  The  wild  blast  whistled  for  the  storm.  The  storm 
came  and  howled  around  the  Tree.  But  the  word  of  the 
Angel  was  hidden  in  her  heart ;  it  soothed  her  amid  the 
threatenings  of  the  tempest.  The  ice-cakes  rattled  upon 
her  limbs  ;  they  loaded  and  weighed  them  down. 

10.  "  My  slender  branches,"  said  she,  "  let  not  this  bur- 
den overcome  you.  Break  not  beneath  this  heavy  afflic- 
tion ;  break  not,  but  bend,  till  you  can  spring  back  to  your 
places.  Let  not  a  twig  of  you  be  lost.  Hope  must  prop 
you  for  a  while,  and  the  Angel  will  reward  your  patience. 
You  will  move  upon  a  softer  air.  Grace  shall  be  again  in 
your  motion,  and  beauty  hang  around  you." 

11.  The  scowling  face  of  winter  began  to  lose  its  feat- 
ures. The  raging  storm  grew  faint,  and  breathed  its  last. 
The  restless  clouds  fretted  themselves  to  atoms ;  they  scat- 
tered upon. the  sky,  and  were  brushed  away.  The  sun 
threw  down"  a  bundle  of  golden  arrows.  They  fell  upon 
the  tree  ;  the  ice-cakes  glittered  as  they  came.  Every  one 
was  shattered  by  a  shaft,  and  unlocked  itself  upon  the  limb. 
They  were  melted  and  gone. 

12.  The  reign  of  Spring  had  come.  Her  blessed  min- 
isters were  abroad  in  the  earth  ;  they  hovered  in  the  air ; 
they  blended  their  beautiftil  tints,  and  cast  a  new-created 
glory  on  the  face  of  the  heavens. 

13.  The  Tree  was  rewarded  for  her  trust.  The  Angel 
was  true  to  the  object  of  his  love.  He  returned ;  he  be- 
stowed on  her  another  robe.  It  was  bright,  glossy,  and 
unsullied.  The  dust  of  summer  had  never  lit  upon  it; 
the  scorching  heat  had  not  faded  it ;  the  moth  had  not  pro- 
faned it. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  125 

14.  The  Tree  stood  again  in  lov^eliness  ;  she  was  dressed 
in  more  than  her  former  beauty ;  she  was  very  fair ;  joy 
smiled  around  her  on  every  side.  The  birds  flew  back  to 
her  bosom.  They  sang  on  every  branch  a  hymn  to  the 
Angel  of  the  Leaves. 


LESSON   XXXII. 
THE    WORLD    OF    CHANCE. 

JOHN   TODD. 

AT  the  foot  of  a  noble  mountain  in  Asia  stood  a  beanlK 
ful  cottage.  Around  it  were  walks,  and  shades,  and 
fruits,  such  as  were  nowhere  else  to  be  found.  The  sun 
shone  upon  no  spot  more  beautiful  or  luxuriant.  It  was 
the  home  of  Hafed,  the  aged  and  prosperous.  He  reared 
the  cottage  ;  he  adorned  the  spot ;  and  here,  for  more  than 
fourscore  years,  he  had  lived  and  studied. 

2.  During  all  this  time,  the  sun  had  never  forgotten  to 
visit  him  daily;  the  harvest  had  never  failed,  the  pestilence 
had  never  destroyed,  and  the  mountain  stream  had  never 
dried  up.  The  wife  of  his  youth  still  lived  to  cheer  him ; 
and  his  son  and  daughter  were  such  as  were  not  to  be  found 
in  all  that  province. 

3.  But  who  can  insure  earthly  happiness  ?  In  one  short 
week,  Hafed  was  stripped  of  all  his  joys.  His  wife  took 
cold,  and  a  quick  fever  followed ;  and  Hafed  saw  that  she 
must  die.  His  son  and  daughter  both  returned  from  the 
burial  of  their  mother,  fatigued  and  sick.  The  nurse  gave 
them,  as  she  thought,  a  simple  medicine.  In  a  few  hours, 
it  was  found  to  be  poison.  Hafed  saw  that  they  must  die; 
for  the  laws  of  nature  are  fixed,  and  poison  kills. 

4.  He  buried  them  in  one  wide,  deep  grave ;  and  it 


126  SANDEES'  UNION  SEEIES. 

seemed  as  if  in  that  grave  lie  buried  liis  reason  and  re- 
ligion. He  tore  liis  gray  hair ;  he  cursed  the  light  of  day, 
and  wished  tlie  moon  turned  into  blood.  He  arraigned  the 
wisdom  of  God  in  His  government  over  this  Avorld,  declar- 
ing tliat  the  laws  which  He  had  established  were  all  wrong, 
useless,  and  worse  than  none.  He  wished  the  world  were 
governed  by  Chance^  or,  at  least,  that,  at  his  death,  he 
might  go  to  a  world  where  there  was  no  God  to  fix  unal- 
terable laws. 

5.  In  the  center  of  Hafed's  garden  stood  a  beautiful 
palm-tree.  Under  this  Hafed  was  sitting,  the  second  even- 
ing after  he  had  closed  tiie  grave  over  his  children.  Before 
him  lay  the  beautiful  country,  and  above  him  the  glorious 
lieavens,  and  the  bright  moon  just  pushing  up  her  modest 
face.  But  Hafed  looked  upon  all  this,  and  grief  swelled 
in  his  throat ;  his  tongue  murmured  ;  his  heart  was  full  of 
blasphemous  thoughts  of  God. 

6.  As  the  night  deepened,  Hafed,  as  he  thought,  fell 
asleep  with  a  heavy  heart.  When  he  supposed  he  awoke, 
it  was  in  a  new  spot.  All  around  him  was  new.  As  he 
stood  wondering  where  he  was,  he  saw  a  creature  approach 
him,  which  appeared  like  a  baboon  ;  but,  on  its  coming 
nearer,  he  saw  that  it  Avas  a  creature  somewhat  resembling 
a  man,  but  every  way  ill-shaped  and  monstrous. 

7.  He  came  up,  and  walked  around  Hafed,  as  if  he 
were  a  superior  being,  exclaiming,  —  "  Beautiful,  beautiful 
creature  ! "  "  Shame,  shame  on  thee! "  said  Hafed  ;  " dost 
thou  treat  a  stranger  thus  with  insults  ?  Leave  off  thy 
jests,  and  tell  me  where  I  am,  and  how  I  came  here  !  '^ 
''  I  do  not  know  how  you  came  here ;  but  liere  you  are,  in 
our  world,  which  we  call  Chance  World,  because  every 
thing  happens  here  by  chance." 

8.  "  Ah  !  is  it  so  ?     This  must  be  delightful !     This  is 


UNION   FIFTH  READER.  127 

just  the  world  for  me.  Oh,  had  I  always  lived  here,  my 
beautiful  children  would  not  have  died  under  a  foolish  and 
inex'orable  law !  Come,  show  me  this  world  ;  for  I  long  to 
see  it.  But  have  ye  really  no  God,  nor  any  one  to  make 
laws  and  govern  you  as  he  sees  fit'  ?" 

9.  "  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean  by  the  word  God. 
We  have  nothing  of  that  kind  here,  —  nothing  but  chance. 
But  go  with  me,  and  you  will  understand  all  about  it.  * 
As  they  proceeded,  Hafed  noticed  that  every  thing  looked 
queer  and  odd.  Some  of  the  grass  was  green,  some  red, 
some  white,  some  new,  and  some  dying;  some  grew  with 
the  top  downward ;  all  kinds  were  mingled  together ;  and, 
on  the  whole,  the  sight  was  very  painful. 

10.  He  stopped  to  examine  an  orchard :  here  Chance 
had  been  at  work.  On  a  fine-looking  apple-tree  he  saw 
210  fruit  but  large,  coarse  cucumbers.  A  small  peach-tree 
was  breaking  dow«  under  its  load  of  gourds.  Some  of  the 
trees  were  growing  with  their  tops  downward,  and  the 
roots  branching  out  into  the  air.  Here  and  there  were 
great  holes  dug,  by  which  somebody  had  tried  to  get  down 
twenty  or  thirty  feet,  in  order  to  get  the  fruit. 

11.  The  guide  told  Hafed  that  there  was  no  certainty 
about  these  trees,  and  that  you  could  never  tell  what  fruit 
a  tree  would  happen  to  bear.  The  tree  which  this  year 
bears  cucumbers,  may  bear  potatoes  next  year,  and  per- 
haps you  would  have  to  dig  twenty  feet  for  every  potato 
you  obtained. 

12.  They  soon  met  another  of  the  "  chance  men.'*  Hi? 
legs  were  very  linequal  in  length :  one  had  no  knee,  and 
the  other  no  ankle.  His  ears  were  set  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  around  his  head  was  a  thick,  black  bandage.  He 
came  groping  his  way,  and  Hafed  asked  him  how  long 
since  he  had  lost  his  sight. 


128  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

13.  "I  have  not  lost  it,"  said  he;  "but  when  I  was 
bom,  my  eyeballs  happened  to  turn  in  instead  o^ out;  and 
the  back  parts,  being  outward,  are  very  painful  in  the 
light,  and  so  I  put  on  a  covering.  Yet  I  am  as  well  off  as 
others.  My  brother  has  one  good  eye  on  tlie  top  of  his 
head;  but  it  looks  directly  upward,  and  the  sun  almost 
puts  it  out." 

14.  They  stopped  to  look  at  some  "  chance  cattle  "  in  a 
yard.  Some  had  but  three  legs ;  some  were  covered  with 
wool,  under  which  they  were  sweltering  in  a  climate 
always  tropical.  Some  were  half  horse  and  half  ox. 
Cows  had  young  camels  following  them  instead  of  calves. 
Young  elephants  were  there  with  flocks  of  sheep,  horses 
with  claws  like  a  lion,  and  geese  clamping  round  the  yard 
with  hoofs  like  horses.     It  was  all  a  work  of  Chance, 

15.  "  This,"  said  the  guide,  '•  is  a  choice  collection  of 
cattle.  You  never  saw  the  like  before."  "  That  is  true — 
truth  itself,"  cried  Hafed.  "Ah  !  but  the  owner  has  been 
at  great  pains  and  expense  to  collect  them.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve there  is  another  such  collection  anywhere  in  all  this 
<  Chance  World.'  "     "  I  hope  not,"  said'  Hafed.     < 


LESSON   XXXIII. 

THE   WORLD    OF    CHANCE. 

(continued.) 

JUST  as  they  were  leaving  the  premises,  the  owner  came 
out  to  admire,  and  show,  and  talk  over  his  treasures. 
He  wanted  to  gaze  at  Hafed ;  but  his  head  happened  to  be 
near  the  ground,  between  his  feet,  so  that  he  had  to  mount 
upon  a  wall  before  he  could  get  a  fair  view  of  the  stranger. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  129 

"  Do  not  think  I  am  a  happy  man,"  said  he,  "  in  having  so 
many  and  such  perfect  animals.  Alas !  even  in  this  per- 
fect and  happy  world,  there  are  always  drawbacks.  That 
fine-looking  cow  yonder  happens  to  give  nothing  but  warm 
water,  instead  of  milk ;  and  her  calf,  poor  thing !  died 
before  it  was  a  week  old. 

2.  "  Some  of  them  are  stone  blind,  some  can  not  live  in 
the  light,  and  few  of  them  can  hear.  No  two  of  them  eat 
the  same  food,  and  it  is  a  great  labor  to  take  care  of  them. 
I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I  would  almost  as  lief  be  a  pooi 
man."     "  I  think  I  should  rather,"  said  Hafed. 

3.  While  they  were  talking,  in  an  instant  they  were  in 
midnight  darkness.  The  sun  was  gone,  and  Hafed  could 
not,  for  some  time,  see  his  guide.  "  What  has  happened P^^ 
said  he.  "  Oh,  nothing  uncommon,"  said  the  guide.  "  The 
sun  happened  to  go  down  now.  There  is  no  regular  time 
for  him  to  shine  ;  but  he  goes  and  comes  just  as  it  happens, 
and  leaves  us  suddenly,  as  you  see." 

4.  "  As  I  don't  see,"  said  Hafed ;  "  but  I  hope  he  will 
come  back  at  the  appointed  time,  at  any  rate."  "  That, 
sir,  will  be  just  as  it  happens.  Sometimes  he  is  gone  for 
months,  and  sometimes  for  weeks,  and  sometimes  only  for 
a  few  minutes,  just  as  it  happens.  We  may  not  see  him 
again  for  months,  but  perhaps  he  will  come  soon." 

5.  As  the  guide  was  proceeding,  to  the  inexpressible  joy 
of  all,  the  sun  at  once  broke  out.  The  light  was  so  sud- 
den, that  Hafed  at  first  thought  he  must  be  struck  with 
lightning,  and  actually  put  his  hands  to  his  eyes  to  see  if 
they  were  safe.  He  then  clapped  his  hands  to  his  eyes 
till  he  could  gradually  bear  the  light.  There  was  a  splen- 
dor about  the  sun,  which  he  had  never  before  seen  ;  and  it 
was  intolerably  hot.     The  air  seemed  like  a  furnace. 

6.  "Ah,"  said  the  owner  of  the  cattle,  "we  must  now 

9 


130  SAKDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

scorch  for  it !  My  poor  wool  ox  must  die  at  once  !  Bad 
luck,  bad  luck  to  us !  The  sun  has  come  back  nearer  than 
he  was  before.  But  we  hope  he  will  happen  to  go  away 
again  soon,  and  then  happen  to  come  back  farther  off  tlie 
next  time." 

7.  The  sun  was  now  pouring  down  his  heat  so  intensely, 
that  they  were  glad  to  go  into  the  house  for  shelter,  —  a 
miserable-looking  place  indeed.  Hafed  could  not  but  com- 
pare it  with  his  own  beautiful  cottage.  Some  timbers  were 
rotten  ;  for  the  tree  was  not,  as  it  happened,  the  same  in 
all  its  i)arts.  Some  of  the  boards  happened  to  be  like 
paper,  and  the  nails  torn  out ;  and  these  were  loose  and 
comino;  off. 

8.  They  invited  Hafed  to  eat.  On  sitting  down  at  the 
table,  he  noticed  that  each  one  had  a  different  kind  of  food, 
and  that  no  two  could  eat  out  of  the  same  dish.  He  was 
told  that  it  so  happened,  that  the  food  which  one  could  eat, 
was  poison  to  another ;  and  what  was  agreeable  to  one,  was 
nauseatino;  to  another. 

9.  "I  suppose  that  to  be  coffee,"  said  Hafed,  "  and  I 
will  thank  you  for  a  cup."  It  Avas  handed  him.  He  had 
been  troubled  with  the  toothache  for  some  hours ;  and  how 
did  he  quail,  when,  on  filling  his  mouth,  he  found  it  was 
ice,  in  little  pieces  about  as  large  as  pigeon-shot  I 

10.  "  Do  you  call  ice-water  coffee  here?"  said  Hafed, 
pressing  his  hand  upon  his  cheek,  while  his  tooth  was 
dancing  with  pain.  "  That  is  just  as  it  happens.  We  put 
water  over  the  fire,  and  sometimes  it  heats  it,  and  some- 
times it  freezes  it.     It  is  all  chance  work." 

11.  Hafed  rose  from  the  table  in  anguish  of  spirit.  He 
remembered  the  world  where  he  had  lived,  and  all  that 
was  past.  He  had  desired  to  live  in  a  world  where  there 
was  no  God,  where  all  was  governed  by  chance.  Here 
he  was,  and  here  he  must  live. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  131 

12.  He  threw  himself  on  a  bed,  and  recalled  the  past, 
—  the  beautiful  world  where  he  had  once  lived ;  his  in- 
gratitude ;  his  murmurings  against  the  wisdom  and  good- 
ness of  God.  He  wept  like  infancy.  He  would  have 
prayed,  and  even  began  a  prayer  :  but  then  he  recollected 
that  there  was  no  God  here ;  nothing  to  direct  events ; 
nothing  but  chance.  He  shed  many  and  bitter  tears  of 
repentance.     At  last  he  wept  himself  asleep. 

13.  When  Hafed  again  awoke,  he  was  sitting  under  his 
palm-tree  in  his  own  beautiful  garden.  It  was  morning. 
At  the  appointed  moment,  the  glorious  sun  rose  up  in  the 
east ;  the  fields  were  all  green  and  fresh ;  the  trees  were 
all  right  end  upward,  and  covered  with  blossoms ;  and  the 
sonorsters  were  utterino;  their  mornino;  soncrs. 

14.  Hafed  arose,  recalled  tliat  ugly  dream,  and  then 
wept  for  joy.  Was  he  again  in  a  world  where  Chance 
does  not  reign  ?  He  looked  up,  and  then  turned  to  the 
God  of  heaven,  the  God  of  laws  and  of  order,  and  gave 
Him  the  glory,  and  confessed  that  His  ways,  to  us  un- 
searchable, are  full  of  wisdom.  He  was  a  new  man  ever 
afterward  ;  nothing  gave  him  greater  cause  of  gratitude,  as 
he  daily  knelt  in  prayer,  than  the  fact  that  he  lived  in  a 
world  where  God  ruled,  and  ruled  by  laws  fixed,  wise,  and 
merciful. 


LESSOISr   XXXIY. 

*  Ve'  nus  is  the  second  planet  in  order  from  the  Sun,  its  orbit  lying  between 
that  of  Mercury  and  that  of  the  Earth,  at  a  mean  distance  from  the 
Sun  of  about  66,000,000  miles.  Its  diameter  is  7,500  miles,  and  its 
period  of  revolution  round  the  sun  is  nearly  225  days.  As  the  morn- 
ing-star, it  was  called,  by  the  ancients,  Lmifer ;  as  the  evening-star, 
Hesperuis. 

3  Mars  is  the  fourth  planet  in  order  from  the  Sun,  or  the  next  beyond  the 


132  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

Earth,  having  a  diameter  of  about  4,300  miles,  a  period  of  687  days, 
and  a  mean  distance  of  139,000,000  miles.  It  is  conspicuous  for  the 
redness  of  its  light. 

NO   GOD. 

N.    K.    RICHARDSON. 

"  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  There  is  no  God."  * 


'I 


S  there  no  God'  ?     The  white  rose  made  reply,  — 
"  My  ermine  robe  was  woven  in  the  sky;" 
The  blue-bird  warbled  from  his  shady  bower,  — 
"  My  plumage  fell  from  Hands  that  made  the  fiowef ." 


2.  Is  there  no  God'  ?     The  silvery  ocean  spray, 
.    At  the  vile  question,  startles  in  dismay; 

And,  tossing  mad  against  earth's  impious  clod. 
Impatient  thunders,  —  "  Yes,  there  is  a  God  ! " 

3.  Is  there  no  God'  ?     The  dying  Christian's  hand, 
Pale  with  disease,  points  to  a  better  land  ; 
And,  ere  his  body  mingles  with  the  sod, 

(jo.)  He,  sweetly  smiHng,  faintly  murmurs,  —  "  God." 

4.  "  We  publish  God  1"  the  towering  mountains  cry 
"Jehovah's  name  is  blazoned  on  the  sky  1" 

The  dancing  streamlet  and  the  golden  grain. 
The  lightning  gleam,  the  thunder  and  the  rain;-  « 

6.  The  dew-drop  diamond  on  the  lily's  breast, 
The  tender  leaf  by  every  breeze  caressed ; 
The  shell  whose  pearly  bosom  ocean  laves, 
And  sea- weed  bowing  to  a  troop  of  waves  ; — 

*  Psalms,  14th,  1st  verse,  and  53d,  1st  verse. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEE.  133 


6.  The  glow  of  Venus ^  and  the  glare  of  Mars,^ 
The  tranquil  beauty  of  the  lesser  stars  ; 
The  eagle  soaring  in  majestic  flight, 

The  morning  bursting  from  the  clouds  of  night ;  — 

7.  The  child's  fond  prattle  and  the  mother's  prayer, 
Angelic  voices  floating  in  the  air,  — 

Mind,  heart,  and  soul,  the  ever-restless  breath, 
And  all  the  myriad  mysteries  of  death. 

8.  Beware,  ye  doubting,  disbelieving  throng. 
Whose  sole  ambition  is  to  favor  wrong  ; 
There  is  a  God ;  remember  while  ye  can, 

"  His  Spirit  will  not  always  strive  with  man.'' 


LESSON  XXXY. 
THE  PRESENCE   OF   GOD. 

AMELIA  B.  WELBY. 

OTHOU,  who  fling' st  so  fair  a  robe 
Of  clouds  around  the  hills  untrod,  — 
Those  mountain-pillars  of  the  globe. 

Whose  peaks  sustain  Thy  throne,  O  God  ! 
All  glittering  round  the  sunset  skies, 

Their  trembling  folds  are  lightly  furled. 
As  if  to  shade  from  mortal  eyes 

The  glories  of  yon  upper  world ; 
There,  while  the  evening  star  upholds 
In  one  bright  spot  their  purple  folds, 
My  spirit  lifts  its  silent  prayer, 
For  Thou,  the  God  of  love,  art  there. 


134  SANDEHS'  UNION  SERIES. 

2.  The  summer  flowers,  the  fair,  the  sweet, 

Upspringing  freely  from  the  sod. 
In  whose  soft  looks  we  seem  to  meet, 

At  every  step.  Thy  smiles,  O  God ! 
The  humblest  soul  their  sweetness  shares ; 

They  bloom  in  palace-hall,  or  cot : 
Give  me,  O  Lord !  a  heart  hke  theirs, 

Contented  with  my  lowly  lot. 
Within  their  pure  ambrosial  bells, 
In  odors  sweet,  Thy  Spirit  dwells : 
Their  breath  may  seem  to  scent  the  air ; 
'Tis  Thine,  O  God !  for  Thou  art  there. 

3.  The  birds  among  the  summer-blooms 

Pour  forth  to  Thee  their  strains  of  love, 
When,  trembling  on  uplifted  plumes. 

They  leave  the  earth  and  soar  above. 
We  hear  their  sweet  familiar  airs 

Where'er  a  sunny  spot  is  found : 
How  lovely  is  a  life  like  theirs, 

Diffusincr  sweetness  all  around  ! 
From  clime  to  clime,  from  pole  to  pole, 
Their  sweetest  anthems  softly  roll. 
Till,  melting  on  the  realms  of  air, 
Thy  still  small  voice  seems  whispering  there - 

4.  The  stars,  those  floating  isles  of  light, 

Round  which  the  clouds  unfurl  their  sails. 
Pure  as  a  woman's  robe  of  white 

That  trembles  round  the  form  it  vails,  — 
They  touch  the  heart  as  with  a  spell ; 

Yet,  set  the  soaring  fancy  free, 


UNION   FIFTH  READER.  135 

And  oh,  how  sweet  the  tales  they  tell  I  — 
They  tell  of  peace,  of  love,  and  Thee ! 
Each  raging  storm  that  wildly  blows, 
Each  balmy  gale  that  lifts  the  rose, 
Sublimely  grand,  or  softly  fair, 
They  speak  of  Thee,  for  Thou  art  there. 

6.  The  spirit  oft  oppressed  with  doubt, 

May  strive  to  cast  Thee  from  its  thought ; 
But  who  can  shut  Thy  presence  out, 

Thou  mighty  Guest,  that  com'st  unsought  ? 
In  spite  of  all  our  cold  resolves, 

Whate'er  our  thoughts,  where'er  we  be, 
Still  magnet-hke  the  heart  revolves. 

And  points,  all  trembling,  up  to  Thee. 
We  can  not  shield  a  troubled  breast 
Beneath  the  confines  of  the  blest, 
Above,  below,  on  earth,  in  air ; 
For  Thou,  the  living  God,  art  there. 

6.  Yet,  far  beyond  the  clouds  outspread. 

Where  soaring  fancy  oft  hath  been, 
There  is  a  land  where  Thou  hast  said 

The  pure  of  heart  shall  enter  in. 
In  those  fair  realms  so  calmlv  brijiht. 

How  many  a  loved  and  gentle  one 
Bathes  its  soft  plumes  in  livino-  lio-ht 

That  sparkles  from  Thy  radiant  throne ! 
There  souls  once  soft  and  sad  as  ours, 
Look  up  and  sing  'mid  fadeless  flowers : 
They  dream  no  more  of  grief  and  care ; 
For  Thou,  the  God  of  peace,  art  there. 


136  SANDEES'  UNION  SERIES. 


LESSON  :k:^:^yl 

INTEGRITY. 

D.  S.  DICKINSON. 

THERE  is  yet  another  rule  for  the  guidance  of  the  young 
business-men,  more  important  tlian  any  to  which  I  have 
adverted,  and  without  which  the  subtle  deductions  of  polit- 
ical economy  ahd  the  ornate  science  of  commercial  law 
would  be  useless.  It  is  not  defined  by  the  chapters  of 
statutes,  nor  divided  into  sections ;  nor  has  it  grown  up 
with  the  progress  of  civilization,  to  suit  the  demands  of 
society,  or  answer  the  exigencies  of  trade ;  but  it  is  coeval 
with  human  existence,  and  is  w  ritten  upon  the  tablet  of 
every  heart. 

2.  It  comprises  a  code  of  exquisite  completeness  for  man's 
moral  government,  and  points  the  pathway  for  his  footsteps, 
which,  carefully  pursued,  will  place  length  of  days  in  his 
right  hand ;  and  in  his  left,  riches  and  honor :  and  it 
admonishes  with  startling  significance  of  the  terrible  pen- 
alties which  await  those  who  disobey  or  seek  to  evade  its 
mandates..  This  law  is  as  unalterable  as  the  renowned 
Medes  and  Persians*  fancied  were  their  far-famed  edicts. 

"  It  lives  through  all  time, 

Extends  through  all  extent, 
Spreads  undivided, 
Operates  unspent." 

3.  It  is  not  taught  in  the  schools,  nor  is  study  requisite 
to  its  possession  ;  but  the  young  and  the  old,  the  ignorant 
and  the  learned,  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  lofty  and  the  low, 

*  Daniel,  vi.  chap.  8  verse. 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  137 

understand  it  alike,  by  that  spark  of  divinity  which  electrifies 
the  soul,  and  gives  the  conscience  intuition.  It  is  Integri- 
ty, —  integrity,  including  all  the  cardinal  and  social  virtues 
which  form  a  code  for  the  moral  government  of  man.  It 
is  a  capital  which  never  depreciates  with  fluctuations,  is 
never  at  a  discount,  but  is  a  sure  rehance  in  every  vicissi- 
tude and  trial.  It  points  to  honorable  success  in  .life's 
pilgrimage  with  unerring  certainty  ;  and  is  both  sword  and 
shield  to  him  who  would  wage,  with  the  true  heart  of  man- 
hood, the  great  battle  of  life. 

4.  What  though  the  tempests  howl,  the  storms  beat,  the 
lightnings  flash,  the  thunders  roar,  and  the  angry  ocean 
cast  up  its  mire  and  dirt :  he  who  holds  fast  to  his  integrity 
will  outride  the  danger,  and  may  laugh  at  the  fury  of  the 
elements.  His  bow  of  promise  will  arch  itself  up  again 
in  the  lieavens,  more  beautiful  than  ever,  as  a  living  wit- 
ness that  truth  can  never  die.  The  slaves  of  vice,  and 
the  votaries  of  indolence  and  fraud,  may  flourish  for  a  sea- 
son ;  but  they  perish  by  a  law  of  being  as  fixed  and  certain 
as  the  power  of  gravitation ;  and,  when  they  have  closed 
their  ignoble  existence,  the  devotees  of  truth  will  rise  above 
their  ruin,  like  the  flowers  of  spring  upon  the  bleak  deso- 
lations of  winter. 

6.  Go  forth,  then,  young  man,  into  this  broad  field  of 
labor,  and  hope,  and  reward,  and  peril !  Be  temperate, 
industrious,  frugal,  and  self-reliant ;  and  whenever  tempta- 
tions shall  cross  your  pathway  and  seek  to  allure  you, 
pause  and  reflect,  —  remember  this  time  and  occasion,  your 
associates  and  him  who  addresses  you  ;  and  remember,  too, 
and  repeat  this  one  word  which  I  give  you,  as  a  talisman 
or  charm  to  shield  and  protect  you  from  all  evil,  and  bear 
you  through  life's  journey  in  safety;  and  that  word  is  — 
Integrity  1 


138  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 


LESSOX   XXXVII. 

1  Trans  fig'  ure  (from  trans,  implying  change,  and  figure,  a  form  or 
sJuipe)  is  to  change  the  form  or  ligure;  to  transform. 

*  The  Southern  Cross  is  a  brilliant  little   constellation,  consisting  of 

four  principal  stars ;  too  far  south,  however,  to  be  seen  by  us  in  these 
northern  regions. 

*  The  Polar  StXr  is  a  star  of  the  second  magnitude,  forming  the  ex- 

tremity of  Ursa  Minor,  or  the  Little  Bear. 

THE  VISIBLE  AND  THE  INVISIBLE. 

ephraim  peabody.  . 

HERE  is  a  whaling  vessel  in  the  harbor,  her  anchors 
up,'  and  her  sails  unfurled.  The  last  boat  has  left  her, 
and  she  is  now  departing  on  a  voyage  of  three,  and  perhaps 
four  years  in  length.  All  that  the  eye  sees  is  that  she. is  a 
fine  ship,  and  that  it  has  cost  much  labor  to  fit  her  out. 
Those  on  board  will  spend  years  of  toil,  and  will  then  re- 
turn, while  the  profits  of  the  voyage  will  be  distributed,  as 
the  case  may  be,  to  be  squandered,  or  to  be  added  to  already 
existing  hoards.  So  much  appears.  But  there  is  an  un- 
published history y  which,  could  it  be  revealed,  and  brought 
vividly  before  the  mind,  would  transfigure^  her,  and  en- 
shrine her  in  an  almost  awful  light. 

2.  There  is  not  a  stick  of  timber  in  her  whole  frame,  not 
a  piank  or  a  rope,  which  is  not,  in  some  mysterious  way, 
enveloped  with  human  interests  and  sympathies.  Let  us 
trace  this  part  of  her  history,  while  she  circles  the  globe, 
and  returns  to  the  harbor  from  which  she  sailed.  At  the 
outset,  the  labor  of  the  merchant,  the  carpenter,  and  of  all 
employed  on  her,  has  not  been  mere  sordid  labor.  The 
thought  of  their  homes,  of  their  children,  and  of  what  this 
labor  may  secure  for  them,  has  been  in  their  hearts. 

3.  And  they  who  sail  in  her,  leave  behind  homes,  wives, 


UNION  FIFTH  EEABEK.  139 

children,  parents  ;  and,  years  before  they  return,  those  who 
are  dearest  to  them,  may  be  in  their  tombs.  What  bitter 
partings,  as  if  by  the  grave's  brink,  are  those  which  take 
place  when  the  signal  to  unmoor  calls  them  on  board ! 
There  are  among  them  young  men,  married,  perhaps,  but 
a  few  weeks  before,  and  those  of  maturer  years,  whose 
young  children  cleave  to  their  hearts  as  they  go. 

4.  How  deeply,  as  the  good  ship  sails  out  into  the  open 
sea,  is  she  freighted  with  memories  and  affections  !  Every 
eye  is  turned  toward  the  receding  coast,  as  if  the  pangs  of 
another  farewell  were  to  be  endured.  Fade  slowly,  shores 
that  encircle  their  homes  !  Shine  brightly,  ye  skies,  over 
those  dear  ones  whom  they  leave  behind  ! 

5.  They  round  the  capes  of  continents,  they  traverse 
every  zone,  their  keel  crosses  every  sea  ;  but  still,  brighter 
than  the  Southern  Cross  ^  or  the  Polar  Star,^  shines  on 
their  souls  the  light  of  their  distant  home.  In  the  calm 
moon-light  rise  before  'the  mariner  the  forms  of  those 
whom  he  loves  ;  in  the  pauses  of  the  gale,  he  hears  the 
voices  of  his  children.  Beat  upon  by  the  tempest,  worn 
down  with  labor,  he  endures  all.  Welcome  care  and  toil, 
if  these  may  bring  peace  and  happiness  to  those  dear  ones 
who  meet  around  his  distant  fireside ! 

6.  And  the  thoughts  of  those  in  that  home,  compassing 
the  globe,  follow  him  wherever  he  goes.  Their  prayers 
blend  with  all  the  winds  which  swell  his  sails.  Their  affec- 
tions hover  over  his  dreams.  Children  count  the  months 
and  the  days  of  a  father's  absence.  The  babe  learns  to 
love  him,  and  to  lisp  his  name.  Not  a  midnight  storm 
strikes  their  dwelling,  but  the  wife  starts  from  her  sleep,  as 
if  she  heard,  in  the  wailing  of  the  wind,  the  sad  forebodings 
of  danger  and  wreck.  Not  a  soft  wind  blows,  but  comes 
to  her  heart  as  a  gentle  messenger  from  the  distant  seas. 


140  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

7.  And,  after  years  of  absence,  they  approach  their  na- 
tive shores.  As  the  day  closes,  they  can  see  the  summits  of 
the  distant  highlands,  hanging  like  stationary  clouds  on  the 
horizon.  And  long  before  the  night  is  over,  their  sleepless 
eyes  catch  the  light,  glancing  across  the  rim  of  the  seas, 
from  the  light-house  at  the  entrance  of  the  bay.  With 
the  morning  they  are  moored  in  the  harbor. 

8.  The  newspapers  announce  her  arrival.  But  here, 
again,  how  little  of  her  caro^o  is  of  that  material  kind  which 
can  be  reckoned  in  dollars  and  cents !  She  is  freighted 
with  human  hearts,  with  anxieties,  and  hopes,  and  fears. 
There  are  many  there  who  have  not  dared  to  ask  the  pilot 
of  home.  The  souls  of  many,  which  yesterday  were  full 
of  joy,  are  now  overshadowed  with  anxiety.  They  almost 
hesitate  to  leave  the  ship,  and  pause  for  some  one  from 
the  shore  to  answer  those  questions  of  home,  and  of  those 
they  love,  which  they  dare  not  utter.  There  are  many 
jo^^ful  meetings,  and  some  that  are  full  of  sorrow. 

9.  Let  us  follow  one  of  this  crew.  He  is  still  a  youth* 
Years  ago,  of  a  wild  and  reckless  and  roving  spirit,  he 
left  his  home.  He  had  fallen  into  temptations  which  had 
been  too  strong  for  his  feeble  virtue.  His  feet  had  been 
familiar  with  the  paths  of  sin  and  shame.  But,  during  the 
present  voyage,  sickness  and  reflection  have  "  brought  him 
to  himself."  Full  of  remorse  for  evil  courses,  and  for  that 
parental  love  which  he  has  slighted,  he  has  said,  — "  I  will 
arise  and  go  to  my  fathers  house ; "  they  who  gave  me 
birth,  shall  no  longer  mourn  over  me  as  lost.  I  will  smooth 
the  pathway  of  age  to  them,  and  be  the  support  of  their 
feeble  steps. 

10.  He  is  on  his  way  to  where  they  dwell  in  the  country. 
As  the  sun  is  setting,  he  can  see,  from  an  eminence  over 
which  the  road  passes,  their  sohtary  home  on  a  distant  hill- 


tJNION  FIFTH  READER.  141 

side.  O  scene  of  beauty,  such  as,  to  him,  no  other  land 
can  show !  Tliere  is  the  church,  here  a  school-house,  and 
the  homes  of  those  whom  he  knew  in  childhood.  He  can 
see  the  places  where  he  used  to  watch  the  golden  sunset, 
not,  as  now,  with  a  heari  full  of  penitence,  and  fear,  and 
sorrow  for  wasted  years,  but  in  the  innocent  days  of  youth. 
There  are  the  pastures  and  the  woods  where  he  wandered, 
full  of  the  dreams  and  hopes  of  childhood, — fond  hopes 
and  dreams  that  have  issued  in  such  sad  reahties. 

11.  The  scene  to  others  would  be  but  an  ordinary  one  ; 
but,  to  Jiim^  the  spirit  gives  it  life.  It  is  covered  all  over 
with  the  golden  hues  of  memory.  His  heart  leaps  forward 
to  his  home  ;  but  his  feet  linger.  May  not  death  have  be6n 
there'  ?  May  not  those  lips  be  hushed  in  the  silence  of  the 
grave  from  which  he  hoped  to  hear  the  words  of  love  and 
forgiveness'?  He  pauses  on  the  way,  and  does  not  ap- 
proach till  he  beholds  a  light  shining  through  the  uncur- 
tained windows  of  the  humble  dwellino;.  And  even  now 
his  hand  is  drawn  back,  which  was  raised  to  lift  the  latch. 
He  would  see  if  all  are  there.  With  a  trembling  heart,  he 
looks  into  the  window;  and  there — blessed  sight!  —  he 
beholds  his  mother,  busy  as  was  her  wont,  and  his  father, 
only  grown  more  reverend  with  increasing  age,  reading 
that  holy  book  which  he  had  tau£2:ht  his  son  to  revere,  but 
which  that  son  had  so  foro-otten ! 

12.  But  there  were  others  ;  and,  lo  !  one  by  one  they  en- 
ter, —  young  sisters,  who,  when  he  last  saw  them,  were  but 
children  that  sat  on  the  knee,  but  have  now  grown  up 
almost  to  womanly  years.  And  now  another  fear  seizes 
him.  How  shall  they  receive  him  ?  May  not  he  be  for- 
gotten^? May  they  not  reject  him'?  But  he  will,  at 
least,  enter.  He  raises  the  latch  ;  —  with  a  heart  too  full 
for  utterance,  he  stands,  silent  and  timid,  in  the  doorway. 


142  SANDEES'  UNION   SERIES. 

The  father  raises  his  head,  the  mother  pauses  and  turns  to 
look  at  the  guest  who  enters.  It  is  but  a  moment,  when 
burst  from  their  hps  the  fond  words  of  recognition, — 
^'  My  son  !  my  son  !  " 

13.  Blessed  words,  which  have  told,  so  fully  that  nothing 
remains  to  be  told,  the  undying'  strength  of  parental  love ! 
To  a  traveler  who  might  that  night  have  passed  this  cottage 
among  the  hills,  if  he  had  observed  it  at  all,  it  would  have 
spoken  of  nothing  but  daily  toil,  of  decent  comfort,  of  ob- 
scure fortunes.  Yet,  at  that  very  hour,  it  was  filled  with 
thanksgivings,  which  rose  like  incense  to  the  heavens,  be- 
cause that  "  he  who  w^as  lost  was  found,  and  he  that  was 
dead  was  alive  afjain." 

14.  Thus  ever  under  the  visible  is  the  invisible.  Through 
dead  material  forms  circulate  the  currents  of  spiritual  life. 
Desert  rocks,  and  seas,  and  shores,  are  humanized  by  the 
presence  of  man,  and  become  alive  with  memories  and  affec- 
tions. There  is  a  life  which  appears^  and  under  it,  in  every 
heart,  is  a  life  which  does  not  appear,  which  is  to  the  former 
as  the  depths  of  the  sea  to  the  waves,  and  the  bubbles,  and 
the  spray  on  its  surface.  There  is  not  an  obscure  house 
among  the  mountains,  v/here  the  v/hole  romance  of  life, 
from  its  dawn  to  its  setting,  through  its  brightness  and 
through  its  gloom,  is  not  lived  through. 

15.  The  commonest  events  of  the  day  are  products  of 
the  same  passions  and  affections,  Avhich,  in  other  spheres, 
decide  the  fate  of  kingdoms.  Outwardly,  the  ongoings  of 
ordinary  life  are  like  the  movements  of  machinery,  lifeless, 
mechanical,  commonplace  repetitions-  of  the  came  trifling 
events.  But  they  arc  neither  lifeless,  nor  old,  nor  trifling* 
The  passions  and  afxections  make  them  ever  new  and  orig- 
inal, and  the  most  unimportant  acts  of  the  day  reach  for- 
ward, in  their  results,  into  the  shadows  of  eternity. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  143 

LESSOJSr   XXXYIII. 

*  Lu'  NA  CY,  a  species  of  insanity  or  madness ;  properly,  the  kind  of  insani- 
ty which  is  broken  by  intervals  of  reason,  formerly  supposed  to  hava 
been  influenced  by  the  moon,  (luna,)  from  which  lunacy  is  derived. 

WHEN   I   AM    OLD. 

CAROLINE  A.  BRIGGS. 

1. '  ^TTHEN  I  am  old,  (and,  oh  !  how  soon 
f  f     Will  life's  sweet  morning  yield  to  noon. 
And  noon's  broad,  fervid,  earnest  light 
Be  shaded  in  the  solemn  night, 
Till,  like  a  story  well-nigh  told, 
Will  seem  my  life  when  I  am  old !) 

2.  When  I  am  old,  this  breezy  earth 
Will  lose  for  me  its  voice  of  mirth ; 
The  streams  will  have  an  undertone 
Of  sadness  not  by  right  their  own  ; 
And  Spring's  sweet  power  in  vain  unfold 
In  rosy  charms,  —  when  I  am  old. 

3.  When  I  am  old,  I  shall  not  care 

To  deck  with  flowers  my  faded  hair ; 
'Twill  be  no  vain  desire  of  mine 
In  rich  and  costly  dress  to  shine  ; 
Bright  jewels  and  the  brightest  gold 
Will  charm  me  naught,  —  when  I  am  old. 

4.  When  I  am  old,"  my  friends  will  be 
Old  and  infirm  ^nd  bowed  like  me  ; 
Or  else  (their  bodies  'neath  the  sod. 
Their  spirits  dwelling  safe  with  God) 
The  old  church-bell  will  long  have  tolled 
Above  the  rest,  —  when  I  am  old. 


144  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

5.  Wlien  I  am  old,  I'd  rather  bend 
Thus  sadly  o'er  each  buried  friend 
Than  see  them  lose  the  earnest  truth 
That  marks  the  friendship  of  our  youth : 
'Twill  be  so  sad  to  have  them  cold 

Or  strange  to  me,  —  when  I  am  old ! 

6.  When  I  am  old,  —  oh  !  how  it  seems 
Like  the  wild  lunacy^  of  dreams 

To  picture  in  prophetic  rhyme 
That  dim,  far-distant,  shadowy  time,  — 
So  distant  that  it  seems  o'er-bold 
Even  to  sot/,  —  "  When  I  am  old  !  " 

7.  When  I  am  old  ?  —  Perhaps  ere  then 
I  shall  be  missed  from  haunts  of  men ; 
Perhaps  my  dwelling  will  be  found 
Beneath  the  green  and  quiet  mound ; 
My  name  by  stranger  hands  enrolled 
Among  the  dead,  —  ere  I  am  old. 

8.  ^re  lam  old? — That  time  is  now ; 
For  youth  sits  lightly  on  my  brow  ; 

My  limbs  are  firm,  and  strong,  and  free ; 
Life  hath  a  thousand  charms  for  me,  — 
Charms  that  will  loner  their  influence  hold 
Within  my  heart,  —  ere  I  am  old. 

9.  Ere  I  am  old^  oh  !  let  me  give 
My  life  to  learning  how  to  live : 
Then  shall  I  meet,  with  willing  heart, 
An  early  summons  to  depart. 

Or  find  my  lengthened  days  consoled 
By  God's  sweet  peace,  —  when  I  am  old. 


UNION  FIFTH  READEB.  145 


LESSON   XXXIX. 

^  Frank'' LIN,  Benjamix,  was  bom  in  Boston,  Mass.,  Jan.  6,  1706;  and 
died  in  Philadelphia,  April  17,  1790.  His  name  has  long  been  a  house- 
hold word  in  America.  He  was  her  moralist,  statesman,  and  philoso- 
pher. His  discovery  of  the  identity  of  lightning  with  electricity  has 
obtained  for  him  a  lasting  and  world -renowned  reputation. 

A  RETROSPECTIVE   REVIEW. 

THOMAS  HOOD. 

1.  A    WHEN  I  was  a  tiny  boy, 

\J,   My  days  and  nights  were  full  of  joy. 

My  mates  were  blithe  and  kind  ! 
No  wonder  that  I  sometimes  sigh, 
And  dash  the  tear-drop  from  my  eye, 
To  cast  a  look  behind  ! 

2.  A  hoop  was  an  eternal  round 

Of  pleasure.     In  those  days  I  found 

A  top  a  joyous  thing  ; 
But  now  those  past  delights  I  drop ; 
My  head,  alas  !  is  all  my  top. 

And  careful  thoughts  the  strino; ! 

3.  My  kite,  how  fast  and  far  it  flew  ! 
While  I,  a  sort  of  Franklin,^  drew 

My  pleasure  from  the  sky  ! 
'Twas  papered  o'er  with  studious  themes, 
The  tasks  I  wrote,  —  my  present  dreams 

Will  never  soar  so  high  ! 

4.  My  joys  are  wingless  all,  and  dead  ; 
My  dumps  are  made  of  more  than  lead ; 

My  flights  soon  find  a  fall ; 
7 


146  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

My  fears  prevail ;  my  fancies  droop ; 
Joy  never  cometh  Avith  a  hoop, 
And  seldom  with  a  call ! 

6.  My  football's  laid  upon  the  shelf; 
I  am  a  shuttlecock  myself, 

The  world  knocks  to  and  fro  ; 
My  archery  is  all  unlearned. 
And  grief  against  myself  has  turned 
My  arrows  and  my  bow ! 

6.  No  more  in  noontide  sun  I  bask  ; 
My  authorship's  an  endless  task  ; 

My  head's  ne'er  out  of  school ; 
Mv  heart  is  pained  with  scorn  and  sliglit ; 
I  have  too  luany  foes  to  fight. 

And  friends  grow  strangely  cool  I 

7.  No  skies  so  blue  or  so  serene 

As  then  ;  no  leaves  look  half  so  green. 

As  clothed  the  play-ground  tree  : 
All  things  I  loved  are  altered  so ; 
Nor  does  it  ease  my  heart  to  know 

That  change  resides  in  me  ! 

8.  O  for  the  garb  that  marked  the  boy, 
The  trousers  made  of  corduroy. 

Well  inked  with  black  and  red  ; 
The  crownless  hat,  ne'er  deemed  an  illj — 
It  only  let  the  sunshine  still 

Repose  upon  my  head  ! 

9.  O  for  the  lessons  learned  by  heart ! 
Ay,  though  the  very  birch's  smart 

Should  mark  those  hours  again,  , 


UNION  FIFTH   KEADEE.  14? 

I'd  "  kiss  the  rod,"  and  be  resigned 
Beneath  the  stroke,  and  even  find 
Some  sugar  in  the  cane  I 

10.  When  that  I  was  a  tiny  boy, 

My  (lays  and  nights.  Avere  full  of  jo}^, 

My  mates  were  blithe  and  kind  ! 
No  wonder  that  I  sometimes  sigli. 
And  dash  the  tear-drop  from  my  eye, 

To  cast  a  look  behind  ! 


LESSON"   XL. 

'Top'- GAL  LANT,  situated  above  tho  top-mast,  and  below  the  royal-mast, 

being  the  third  of  the  kind  in  order  from  the  deck. 
2  Cross'- TREE,  a  piece  of  timber,  supported  by  the  trestle-trees  at  the  upper 

end  of  the  lower  masts,  to  sustain  the  frame  of  the  top,  and  on  the  top- 
masts to  extend  the  top-gallant  shrouds. 
^  Ka  nack'  a,  a  native  of  the  Sandwich  Islands. 
*  Lee'  ward,  that  part  toward  which  the  wind  blows. 
^  Kat'  lines,  small  lines  traversing  the  shrouds  of  a  ship,  making  the  steps 

of  a  ladder  for  ascending  to  the  mast-head. 
^  Main'  yard,  the  yard  on  which  the  mainsail  is  extended,  supported  by  tho 

mainmast. 
^  Back'- STAYS,  long  ropes  or  stays  extending  from  the  top-mastheads  to 

both  sides  of  a  ship,  to  assist  the  shrouds  in  supporting  the  masts. 
^  Star'  board,  being  or  lying  on  the  right  side. 
•*  Log'  ger  head,  a  piece  of  round  timber,  in  a  whale-boat,  over  which  thii 

Una  is  passed,  to  make  it  run  more  slowly. 

TAKING  A  WHALE. 

n.  starbuck. 

EARLY  one  morning,  while  we  were  cruising  off  th(5 
coast  of  Peru  for  sperm-whales,  I  was  dozing  on 
the  main-top-gallant ^  cross-trees.^  Suddenly  something 
seemed  to  ring  through  my  brain.     I  awoke  to  discover 


148  SANDEBS'  UKIOK  SERIES. 

tliat  it  Avas  the  wild  voice  of  Zadik,  the  captain's  har- 
pooner,  a  tall,  swarthy,  straight-haired  youth,  half  Ka- 
nacka,^  half  English.  He  was  very  tender-hearted,  but 
an  excellent  whaleman,  whose  power  of  vision  was  truly 
remarkable.  He  stood  on  the  other  side  of  me,  shrieking 
with  all  the  force  of  his  lungs,  "  There  blows !  —  there 
blows !  —  there  —  there  —  there  blows  !  '* 

2.  "  Where  away  ? "  thundered  old  Captain  Boom, 
glancing  aloft. 

"  On  the  weather-bow,  four  miles  off,  heading  to  lee- 
ward!"* 

This  answer  sent  an  electric  thrill  through  every  vein  : 
the  old  ship  lurched  as  if  she  felt  it  too.  Up  came  old 
Boom,  with  spy-glass  slung  over  his  shoulder,  mounting 
two  ratlines^  at  a  time.  When  on  the  cross-trees,  he  just 
gave  one  squint  with  his  telescope ;  then  his  voice  rang 
through  the  ship  like  the  notes  of  a  trumpet :  — 

3.  "Back  the  mainyard^  1  —  clear  away  the  boats!" 
It  would  have  done  you  good  to  see  the  men  jump  to  falls 
and  braces.  The  ship  came  up  slowly,  and  Boom  went 
speedily  down  by  means  of  a  back-stay.'^ 

Zadik,  following  him,  sprang  like  a  deer  into  the  star- 
board^ boat. 

"  Lower  away  ! "  ordered  the  captain.  Buzz-z-z !  buzz ! 
buzz-z-z  1  sounded  the  falls  ;  and  splash  went  the  four  boats 
almost  simultaneously  into  the  water. 

4.  The  merry  lads  bundled  into  them,  and  away  they 
flew,  the  captain's  taking  the  lead. 

"Snap  your  oars!  Make  the  fire  fly!  Long  and 
strong's  the  word  !  Bend  your  backs,  every  one  of  ye  !  " 
exclaimed  the  old  captain. 

In  a  similar  manner  the  other  officers  encouraged  their 
crews,  until  they  had  proceeded  about  four  miles,  when 
orders  were  given  to  stop  pulling. 


UNION   FIFTH  EEADEE.  149 

5.  "  None  of  your  venturesome  pranks,  Thomas  ;  if  you 
get  alongside  a  whale,"  said  the  skipper  to  his  son,  a  lad 
of  fifteen,  who  belonged  in  the  first  mate's  boat,  ''you'll 
have  need  of  all  your  dexterity." 

Thomas,  the  ship's  favorite,  smiled,  and  shook  his  curly 
head.  At  the  same  moment,  the  water  broke  into  a  whirl- 
pool a  few  fathoms  astern.  There  was  a  hurried  wdiisper- 
ing;  then  the  boats  were  forced  round,  as  a  very  small 
whale  —  a  calf — rose  to  the  surface. 

6.  We  perceived  at  once  that  the  creature  had  been 
struck  by  some  other  crew ;  for  the  shank  of  an  iron  pro- 
truded from  its  body.  It  seemed  very  w^eak,  and  in  much 
pain,  moving  slowly,  and  now  and  then  reeling  sideways 
with  a  sudden  plunge.  It  swam  in  a  circle,  as  if  bewil- 
dered ;  and  the  noise  of  its  spouting  somehow  reminded 
me  of  the,  wailing  of  a  child. 

"  Paddle  ahead !  "  was  the  order ;  for  every  man  be- 
lieved that  the  mother  of  the  calf,  the  cow-whale,  was  not 
far  off. 

The  first  mate  was  soon  within  darting  distance. 

"Give  it  to  him!"  he  shrieked,  and  whiz!  went  the 
harpooner's  iron  into  the  animal's  body. 

7.  For  a  few  moments  the  little  whale,  as  if  half  stupe- 
fied, remained  nearly  motionless ;  then  it  came  down, 
writhing  and  whirling  its  flukes  in  great  agony ;  after 
which  it  sounded.  It  was  too  weak  to  drag  the  boat  very 
fast  or  very  far ;  and  it  soon  rose  about  fifty  yards  ahead. 

"  Haul  line  !  "  ordered  the  mate,  now  in  the  boat's  bow, 
with  lance  in  hand. 

As  he  spoke,  the  water  on  one  side  of  the  calf  suddenly 
parted  with  a  roar  like  a  cataract,  and  an  enormous  levia- 
than, the  cow-whale,  boomed  up  from  the  surface,  beating 
the  sea  with  her  flukes,  and  spouting  furiously. 


160  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

8.  Round  and  round  her  offspring  she  swam ;  but  soon 
paused,  as  if  half  paralyzed  with  astonishment  and  grief  at 
the  situation  of  the  sufferer.  A  moment  she  remained 
thus,  then  moved  ahead  slowly  and  gently,  occasionally 
turning,  as  if  to  entice  the  little  creature  to  follow.  In 
fact  the  calf  endeavored  to  do  so,  but  was  too  badly  crip- 
pled to  swim  ;  it  made  a  few  feeble  plunges  toward  its  par-^ 
ent,  and  then  began  to  writhe  and  wheel  in  great  agony. 
Perceiving  that  it  was  now  in  its  flurry,  the  mate  stopped 
hauling  line,  and  remained  watching  the  animal  until  its 
blood-red  spoutings  no  longer  rose,  and  it  rolled  over  quite 
dead. 

9.  The  conduct  of  its  mother  was  pitiful  to  witness. 
She  seemed  unwilling  to  believe  that  her  young  was  really 
dead.  Round  it  she  slowl^^  swam,  spouting  with  a  noise 
something  between  a  shriek  and  a  gasp.  Then  she  moved 
ahead  as  before,  and,  like  one  half  crazed,  seemed  not 
yet  to  have  abandoned  the  hope  of  being  followed  by 
her  offspring.  Meanwhile  her  enemies  were  rapidly  but 
stealthily  advancing.  Soon  the  captain,  who  was  foremost, 
was  near  enough  to  dart. 

"  Let  her  have  ! "  he  exclaimed.  Zadik  raised  his  har- 
poon ;  at  the  same  moment  the  cow  gently  rubbed  her- 
great  head  against  the  little  whale,  as  if  to  ascertain  the 
reason  why  it  would  not  follow  her. 

10.  Zadik  lowered  the  point  of  his  weapon ;  his  wild 
eyes  softened. 

"  That  whale  is  just  like  a  human  mother,  captain,"  said 
he,  "  and  I  haven't  the  heart  to  strike  it ! " 

"  Why,  Zadik,  what  ails  ye  ?    Dart !  dart !  I  tell  ye  ! " 
As  he   spoke,  a  sudden   cliange   d'sune   over  the  whale, 
which   now,  half  turning,  saw   the   boat.      Wrathful  and 
wild  fqr  revenge,  she  threw  the  whole  length  of  her  enor- 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  151 

mous  body  out  of  water ;  then,  falling  back  with  the  din 
of  a  cataract,  she  made  straight  for  the  boat,  her  bristhng 
jaws  wide  open,  and  her  broad  flukes  beating  the  sea ! 

11.  "  Stern  !  stern ! "  shouted  old  Boom;  and  every  man 
of  his  crew,  except  Zadik,  turned  pale. 

The  harpooner  had  changed  with  the  leviathan.  The 
flush  of  fight  was  now  on  his  cheek,  and  there  was  fire  in 
his  eye.  His  dark  brow  was  wrinkled ;  the  ends  of  his 
straight,  black  hair  bristled  like  spgar-points.  He  motioned 
to  the  captain  to  keep  off  a  little,  and,  being  obeyed,  sent 
both  irons  whizzing  into  the  side  of  the  monster ! 

12.  Maddened  with  pain,  fiercer  than  ever,  the  whale 
made  a  swift  dash  toward  the  boat,  which  she  must  have 
grappled,  had  not  the  captain,  by  a  dexterous  movement, 
whirled  the  light  vessel  to  one  side.  Thus  baffled,  the 
monster  descended,  shaking  a  savage  warning  with  her 
flakes  as  she  disappeared.  Away  went  the  boat  swift  as  a 
whirlwind,  the  line  humming  around  the  loggerhead,^  and 
the  crew  cheering  lustily  in  answer  to  the  cheers  of  those 
who  were  pulling  after  them. 

13.  Zadik  and  the  captain  changed  places,  and  the  "  old 
lion,"  as  we  called  Boom,  soon  had  his  lance  ready.  The 
whale  came  up  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  and  "  Haul 
line  ! "  was  the  order.  When  within  darting  distance,  the 
skipper  sent  his  long  weapon  into  the  monster's  body. 
Enraged  beyond  all  bounds,  she  came  dashing  toward  us 
in  a  cloud  of  whirling  spray  tossed  by  her  enormous 
flukes. 

14.  "  Stern  !  stern  ! "  ordered  the  captain. 

Thicker  and  faster  flew  the  spray,  almost  hiding  the  ani- 
mal from  us,  until  suddenly  we  saw  its  great  head,  with 
the  bristling  jaws,  bursting  from  the  white  foam-cloud, 
within  six  inches  of  the  skipper  1      Had  the  nerves  of 


152  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

Zadik  failed  him,  the  old  man  must  have  perished  the  next 
minute.  But  the  voice  of  the  Kanacka  rang  like  the  clang 
of  a  hammer,  as  with  ready  steering-oar  he  whirled  the 
boat's  broadside  toward  the  monster,  and  then  gave  the 
order  to  "Stern!" 

15.  Snap  went  the  monster's  closing  jaws,  just  missing 
the  boat's  bow !  and  whiz-z-z  went  the  old  captain's  lance 
again  into  her  body  ! 

As  she  dashed  furiously  toward  us,  our  shipmates  arrived 
to  take  part  in  the  combat.  The  first  mate,  who  had  left 
the  calf  to  be  towed  by  an  extra  boat's  crew  from  the  ship, 
attacked  the  monster  on  one  flank,  while  the  captain  and 
his  second  and  third  mates  battled  desperately  upon  the 
other.  The  cheers  of  the  men,  the  crashing  of  the  whale's 
flukes,  mingling  with  wild  cries,  were  heard  on  all  sides  ; 
while  so  thick  was  the  spray  that  no  man  could  see  his 
neighbor  distinctly. 

16.  Vigorously  pressed,  with  lance  after  lance  piercing 
her  body,  the  whale  soon  acknowledged  the  power  of  her 
assailants  by  sending  up  into  the  spray-cloud  a  light-red 
fountain  of  blood !  With  exultant  screams,  the  lancers, 
still  attacking,  buried  their  weapons  in  her  writhing  body, 
from  which  the  spout  rose  darker  and  lower  every  mo- 
ment. 

Suddenly,  with  one  tremendous  whirl  of  her  flakes,  she 
struck  the  first  mate's  boat,  shivering  it  to  atoms !  Then 
slowly  round  and  round  she  swam,  the  dark  blood-spout 
now  ascending  scarcely  six  inches.  Finally,  half  lifting  her 
flukes  and  head  in  one  last  spasm  of  agony,  she  expired ! 

17.  The  first  mate's  crew,  being  good  swimmers,  had 
not  yet  been  picked  up :  for  the  captain  had  been  too  busy 
to  notice  wJiicJi  vessel  was  wrecked.  As  the  poor  fellows 
were  helped  into  his  boat,  he  looked  in  vain  for  his  son. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  153 

The  sad  story  was  soon  told,  (p^-)  Poor  little  Thomas 
was  far  down  under  the  sea,  whither  his  frame,  crushed  by 
the  whale's  flukes,  had  been  dragged  by  sharks. 

18.  The  captain  groaned,  and  bowed  his  head.  He  did 
not  lift  it  until  we  were  alongside  the  ship.  While  we 
were  cutting  up  the  whale,  we  looked  in  vain  for  him. 

"  He  is  down  in  the  cabin,"  said  the  mate,  "  weeping 
and  sobbing  like  a  child.  He  will  never  be  a  happy  man 
again !  " 

''Ay,  ay,"  said  Zadik  gloomily.  "I  felt  as  if  no  good 
would  come  of  our  striking  that  wdiale !  We  killed  her 
offspring,  and  she  killed  the  captain's  son  I  " 


LESSON"    XLI. 

^  Le  vi'  a  THAN"  here  means  the  great  whale. 

^  Mad'  re  pore,  species  of  coral  which  usually  branch  like  trees  and 
shrubs,  and  have  the  surface  covered  with  small  prominences,  each 
containini^  a  cell. 

^  Phos  piior  es'  cexce,  a  shining  with  a  faint  light;  state  of  being  lumi- 
nous Avithout  sensible  heat. 

*  Cacii'a  lot,  {cash' a  lot,)  the  sperm-whale.     It  has  in  its  head  a  large 

cavity,  in  which  is  collected  an  oily  fluid,  which,  after  death,  concretes 
into  a  granulated,  yellowish  substance,  called  spermaceti. 
^  Basques,  [Basks,)  an  ancient  and  peculiar  people,  living  on  the  slopes  of 
the  Pyrenees  Mountains. 

*  Tun'  NY,  a  large  fish  of  the  mackerel  species.      Its  flesh  is  considered 

excellent  food.     Tunnies  weighing  over  a  thousand  pounds  are  quit« 
common  in  the  Mediterranean. 

LEVIATHAN,  OR  THE   GREAT  WHALE. 

from  the  FRENCH  OF  MICHELET. 

"  rpHE  fisherman  belated  at  night  in  the  North  Sea," 

jL    says  Milton,  "  saw  an  isle,  which,  like   the  back  of 

a  mountain,  lay  upon  the  water ;  and  in  that  isle  he  fast- 


154  SANDEHS'  UNION  SERIES. 

ened  his  anchor.  The  isle  fled,  and  carried  him  away. 
That  isle  was  Leviathan."  ^  Captain  Durville  was  simi- 
larly though  not  so  fatally  deceived.  He  saw  at  a  dis- 
tance an  elevation  on  the  water,  Avh'ich  appeared  to  be  a 
bank  with  breakers  and  eddies  all  around  it,  and  certain 
patches  upon  it  looked  like  rocks. 

2.  Above  and  around  this  seemin*]!:  bank,  the  swallow 
and  the  stormy  petrel  raced  and  sported.  The  bank  looked 
venerably  gray,  covered  as  it  was  with  shells  and  madre- 
pores.^ But  the  mighty  mass  suddenly  moved,  and  two 
enormous  columns  of  water,  which  it  threw  high  into  the 
air,  revealed  the  awakened  whale. 

3.  Whales  are  given  to  companionship.  Formerly  they 
were  seen  sailing  along,  not  only  in  pairs,  but  occasicmally 
in  large  families  of  ten  or  twelve  in  the  solitary  seas. 
Nothing  exceeded  the  grandeur  of  those  vast  and  living 
fleets,  sometimes  lighted  up  by  their  own  phosphoresence,^ 
and  throwing  columns  of  Avater  to  the  higlit  of  thirty  or 
forty  feet,  which,  in  the  polar  seas,  smoked  as  it  rose. 

4.  They  would  approach  a  vessel  peaceably  and  in  evi- 
dent curiosity,  looking  upon  her  as  some  specimen  of  a 
new.  and  strange  species  of  fish  ;  and  they  sported  around, 
and  welcomed  the  visitor.  In  their  joy  they  raised  them- 
selves half  upright,  and  then  fell  down  again  with  a  stun- 
ning noise,  making  a  boiling  gulf  as  they  sank.  Their 
innocent  familiarity  went  so  far,  that  they  sometimes 
touched  the  ship  or  her  boats,  —  an  imprudent  confidence 
which  was  most  cruelly  deceived.  In  less  than  a  century, 
the  great  species  of  the  whale  have  almost  disappeared. 

5.  Whales  have  always  been  very  numerous  in  the 
Greenland  seas,  —  a  grand  object  of  desire  to  those  to 
whom  oil  is  a  thing  of  very  first  necessity.  The  fish  gives 
it  by  drops,  the  seal  by  gallons,  the  whale  by  hogsheads  I 


UNION  FIFTH   EEADER.  155 

He  Avas  truly  a  bold  man  who  first,  with  his  poor  weap- 
ons, with  the  sea  howling  at  his  feet,  and  the  darkness 
closing  around  him,  dared  to  pursue  the  whale  ! 

6.  A  bold  man  was  he,  who,  trusting  to  his  courage,  the 
strength  of  his  arm,  and  the  weight  of  his  harpoon,  first 
believed  that  he  could  pierce  that  mighty  mass  of  blubber 
and  flesh,  and  convert  it  to  his  own  profit !  A  daring 
man  was  li3  who  first  imagined  that  he  could  attack  the 
whale,  and  not  perish  in  the  tempest  that  would  be  raised 
by  the  pl-unges  and  terrific  blows  of  the  astonished  and 
suffering  monster  !  And,  as  if  to  crown  his  audacity,  the 
man  next  fastened  a  line  to  his  harpoon,  and,  braving  still 
more  closely  the  frightful  shock  of  the  agonized  and  dying 
giant,  never  once  feared  that  that  giant  might  plunge  head- 
long into  the  deep,  taking  with  him  harpoon,  line,  boat, 
and  man  ! 

7.  There  is  still  another  danger,  and  no  less  terrible. 
It  is,  that,  instead  of  meeting  the  common  whale,  that 
brave  man  should  flill  in  with  the  cachalot,*  the  terror  of 
the  seas.  He  is  not  very  large,  —  perhaps  not  more  than 
from  sixty  to  eighty  feet  long ;  but  his  head  alone  measures 
about  one-third  the  length  of  the  body.  In  case  of  such  a 
meeting,  woe  to  the  fisher !  he  would  become  the  chased 
instead  of  the  chaser,  the  victim  instead  of  the  tyrant. 

8.  The  cachalot  has  horrible  jaws,  and  no  less  than 
forty-eight  enormous  teeth.  He  could,  with  ease,  devour 
all,  —  both  man  and  boat;  and  he  seems  always  drunk 
with  blood.  His  blind  raoje  so  terrifies  all  the  other 
whales,  Ihat  they  escape,  bellowing,  throwing  themselves 
on  the  shore,  or  striving  to  hide  themselves  in  the  sand. 
Even  when  he  is  dead,  they  still  fear  him,  and  will  not 
approach  his  carcass. 

9.  Many  think  that  those  intrepid  men  who  first  under- 


156  SANDEKS'  UNION   SERIES. 

took  SO  perilous  a  task  as  that  of  wliale-fishing,  must  have 
been  eccentric  enthusiasts ;  and  that  an  undertakino;  so 
hazardous  could  never  have  originated  with  the  prudent 
men  of  the  North,  but  must  have  been  initiated  by  the 
Basques/  those  daring  hunters  and  fishers,  who  were  so 
well  accustomed  to  their  own  capricious  sea,  where  they 
fished  the  tunny .^  Here  they  first  saw  the  huge  whales 
at  play,  and  pursued  them,  frenzied  by  the  hope  of  such 
enormous  prey;  onward,  and  still  onward^  no  matter 
whither,  —  even  to  the  confines  of  the  pole.     ' 

10.  Here^  doubtless,  the  poor  whale  fancied  it  must  be 
safe  from  its  relentless  pursuers.  But  our  Basque  madcaps 
followed  it  even  into  those  frozen  regions.  Tightening  his 
red  belt  around  his  waist,  he  stealthily  and  silently  ap- 
proaches the  unconscious,  sleeping  monster,  and  fearlessly 
plunges  the  harpoon  into  its  very  vitals.  Poor  whale  ! 
He  falls  a  victim  to  the  selfishness  and  rapacity  of  man  ! 
Such  achievements  afford  a  striking  proof  of  the  wonderful 
powers  of  the  human  mind,  in  holding  dominion,  not  only 
over  the  fowls  of  the  air  and  the  beasts  of  the  field,  but 
also  over  the  mighty  monsters  of  the  deep. 


LESSON    XLII. 

*  Gal  I  le'o,  Galilei,  a  distinguished  astronomer,  was  bom  at  Pisa,  in 
Italy,  July  15,  1564;  and  died  Jan.  8,  1642.  In  1592,  he  was  ap- 
pointed professor  of  mathematics  in  the  University  of  Padua.  Hero 
he  became  a  convert  to  the  Copemican  system  of  the  universe ;  and,  by 
means  of  a  leaden  tube  and  two  spectacle  glasses,  he  obtained  a  crude 
telescope  of  only  threefold  magnifying  power.  Subsequently  he  made 
two  others,  one  magnifying  e/^rA?,  and  the  other  thhii/  times.  With  these 
he  discovered  the  mountains  and  cavities  in  the  Moon,  the  four  satel- 
lites of  Jupiter,  and  the  rings  of  Saturn.  But  prejudice  and  ignorance 
were  combined  against  him.     He  was  charged  with  heresy,  imprisoned. 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  157 

and  compelled  to  recant  his  opinions ;  but  he  stamped  his  foot,  and 
exclaimed,  —  "77ie  earth  moves,  for  all  that !  " 
*  Kep'  ler,  John,  a  celebrated  mathematician  and  astronomer,  was  born  at 
Weil,  in  Wirtemberg,  Dec.  21,  1571  ;  and  died  Nov.  5,  1631.  During 
his  life  he  published  thirty-three  separate  works,  among  which  his 
"  New  Astronomy,"  and  the  "  Harmonies  of  the  World,"  are  the  most 
remarkable.  The  latter  work  contains  his  celebrated  law,  that  the 
squares  of  the  periodic  times  of  the  planets  are  as  the  cubes  of  their 
distances ;  but,  from  a  blunder  in  his  calculations,  he  rejected  it.  Hav- 
ing discovered  his  error,  he  recognized  with  transport  the  absolute  truth 
of  a  principle,  which,  for  seventeen  years,  had  been  the  object  of  liis 
incessant  pursuit.  He  was  almost  frantic  with  joy,  and  exclaimed,  — 
"  The  die  is  cast !  The  book  is  written  to  be  read,  either  now  or  by  pos- 
terity, I  care  not  which  !  It  may  well  wait  a  century  for  a  reader,  as 
God  has  waited  six  thousand  years  for  an  observer ! " 

THE   GAME   OF   LIFE. 

J.   G.    SAXE. 

1.  rpHERE'S   a  game   much  in  fashion,  —  I  think  it's 
_L  called  Eucher^ 

(Though  I  never  have  played  it  for  pleasure  or  lucre,) 
In  which,  when  the  cards  are  in  certain  conditions, 
The  plajers  appear  to  have  changed  their  positions, 
And  one  of  them  cries,  in  a  confident  tone,  — 
*'  I  think  I  may  venture  to  go  it  alone  T'' 


2.  While  watching  the  game,  'tis  a  whim  of  tlie  bard's 
A  moral  to  draw  from  the  skirmish  of  cards. 

And  to  fancy  he  sees  in  the  trivial  strife 
Some  excellent  hints  for  the  hattle  of  Life  ; 
Where,  whether  the  prize  he  a  ribbon  or  throne. 
The  ivinner  is  he  who  can  "  go  it  alone!  '^ 

3.  When  great  Galileo^  proclaimed  that  the  world 
In  a  regular  orbit  was  ceaselessly  whirled, 


158  SANDEHS'  UNION  SERIES. 

And  got  not  a  convert  for  all  of  liis  pains, 
But  only  derision,  and  prison,  and  chains,  — 
"jT^  moves^  for  all  that!'^  was  his  answering  tone ; 
For  he  knew,  like  the  Earth,  he  could  "yo  it  alone /^^ 

4.  When  Kepler,^  with  intellect  piercing  afar. 
Discovered  the  laws  of  each  planet  and  star. 
And  doctors,  who  ought  to  have  lauded  his  name, 
Derided  his  learning,  and  blackened  his  fame, 
"  I  can  wait,''  he  replied,  "  till    the    truth  you  shall 

own ; " 
For  he  felt  in  his  heart  he  could  "^o  it  alone/'* 

6.  Alas  for  the  player  who  idly  depends. 

In  the  struggle  of  life,  upon  kindred  and  friends  I 
Whatever  the  value  of  blessings  like  these, 
They  can  never  atone  for  inglorious  ease ; 
Nor  comfort  the  coward,  who  finds,  with  a  groan. 
That  his  crutches  have  left  him  to  " ^o  it  alone/'' 

6.  There's  something,  no  doubt,  in  the  hand  you  may  hold ; 
Health,  family,  culture,  Avit,  beauty,  and  gold. 

The  fortunate  owner  may  fairly  regard 

As,  each  in  its  w^ay,  a  most  excellent  card ; 

Yet  the  game  may  be  lost  Avith  all  these  for  your  OAvn, 

Unless  you've  the  courage  to  ^' ^o  it  alone/" 

7.  In  battle  or  business,  whatever  the  game, 
In  law  or  in  love,  it  is  ever  the  same ; 

In  the  struggle  for  power,  or  the  scramble  for  pelf, 
Let  this  be  your  motto,  —  ''^Rely  on  yourself /" 
For,  whether  the  prize  be  a  ribbon  or  throne, 
The  victor  is  he  who  can  "^o  it  alone/" 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  159 

LESSON   XLIIL 

KEEP  IN    STEP. 

ANON. 

Those  who  would  walk  together,  must  keep  in  step.  —  Old  Proverb. 

1.  AY,  the  world  keeps  moving  forward, 
I\     Like  an  army  marching  by  : 
Hear  you  not  its  heavy  footfall 

That  resoundeth  to  the  sky'  ? 
Some  bold  spirits  bear  the  banner, 

Souls  of  sweetness  chant  the  song, 
Lips  of  energy  and  fervor 

Make  the  timid-hearted  strong  ! 
Like  brave  soldiers,  we  march  forward : 

If  you  linger  or  turn  back, 
You  must  look  to  get  a  jostling 

While  you  stand  upon  our  track. 
Keep  in  step  ! 

2.  My  good  noiglibor,  Master  Standstill, 

Gazes  on  it  as  it  goes, 
Kot  quite  sure  but  he  is  dreaming 

In  his  afternoon's  repose. 
"  Nothing  good,"  he  says,  ''  can  issue 

From  this  endless  '  moving  on  ; ' 
Ancient  laws  and  institutions 

Are  decaying,  or  are  gone. 
"We  are  rushino;  on  to  ruin 

With  our  mad,  new-fangled  ways.'* 
While  he  speaks,  a  thousand  voices, 

As  the  heart  of  one  man,  say, — 
"  Keep  in  step  !  " 


160  SAKDERS'  TTNION   SERIES. 

3.  Be  assured,  good  Master  Standstill, 

All-wise  Providence  designed 
Aspiration  and  progression 

For  the  yearning  human  mind. 
Generations  left  their  blessings 

In  the  relics  of  their  skill  ; 
Generations  yet  are  longing 

For  a  greater  glory  still. 
And  the  shades  of  our  forefathers 

Are  not  jealous  of  our  deed : 
We  but  follow  where  they  beckon, 

We  but  go  w^here  they  do  lead ! 
Keep  in  step  1 

4.  One  detachment  of  our  army 

May  encamp  upon  the  hill, 
AYhile  another  in  the  valley 

May  enjoy  "  its  own  sweet  will : '' 
Tliis  may  answer  to  one  ^vatchw^ord, 

That  may  echo  to  another ; 
But  in  unity  and  concord, 

They  discern  that  each  is  brother ! 
Breast  to  breast  they're  marching  onward 

In  a  good  and  peaceful  way : 
You'll  be  jostled  if  you  hinder, 

So  don't  offer  let  or  stay: 
Keep  in  step  ! 


LESSON   XLIY. 

1  Shak'speare,  William.     See  note,  p.  106. 
Ark'  WRIGHT,  Sir  Richard,  was  born  in  Preston  in  1 732.    When  thirty- 
five  years  of  age,  he  devoted  his  attention  to  the  subject  of  inven- 
tions for  spinning  cotton.     Mills  for  spinning  cotton  by  his  machinery 


UNION  FIFTH*  READER.  161 

were  first  erected  in  Nottingham.  The  system  has  been  universally 
adopted,  and,  in  all  its  main  features,  remains  unaltered  to  the  present 
time.  Out  of  his  invention  have  grown  up  the  largest  manufacture, 
the  largest  trade,  the  largest  revenue,  some  of  the  largest  cities,  and  tho 

'  largest  national  prosperity,  in  the  world.  Although  defrauded  out  of 
his  patent  right,  yet  by  indomitable  energy  he  turned  the  tide  of  pros- 
perity and  wealth  to  his  own  advantage,  and  left  a  large  fortune  to  his 
heirs. 

Co  lum'bus,  Christopher,  the  discoverer  of  America  in  1492,  was  born 
in  Genoa,  Italy,  1436  ;  and  died  May  20,  1506. 

ENCOURAGEMENTS  IN    THE    PURSUIT   OF    KNOWL- • 

EDGE. 

EDWARD  EVERETT. 

AN  idea,  I  fear,  prevails,  that  truths  are  obvious  enough 
in  themselves,  but  that  they  apply  only  to  men  of  ht- 
erary  education,  —  to  professional  characters,  and  persons 
of  fortune  and  leisure ;  and  that  it  is  out  of  the  power 
of  the  other  classes  of  society,  and  those  who  pass  most  of 
their  time  in  manual  labor  and  mechanical  industry,  to 
engage  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  with  any  hope  of  being 
useful  to  themselves  and  others. 

2.  This  I  believe  to  be  a  great  error.  What  is  it  that 
we  wish  to  improve  ?  The  mind.  Is  this  a  thing  mo- 
nopolized by  any  class  of  society^  ?  God  forbid  !  it  is  the 
heritage  with  which  he  has  endow^ed  all  tlie  children  of 
the  great  family  of  man.  Is  it  a  treasure  belonging  to  the 
wealthy'  ?  It  is  talent  bestowed  alike  on  rich  and  poor,' 
high  and  low.  But  this  is  not  all :  mind  is,  in  all  men, 
and  in  every  man,  the  same  active,  living,  and  creative 
principle ;  it  is  tlie  man  himself. 

3.  One  of  the  renowned  philosophers  of  heathen  antiq-= 
uity  beautifully  said  of  the  intellectual  faculties,  —  "I  call 
them  not  mine^  but  mey  It  is  these  which  make  the  man, 
which  are  the  man.  I  do  not  say  that  opportunities,  that 
wealth,  leisure,  and  great  advantages  for  education,  are 

11 


162  SANDEES'  UNIOK  SEEIES. 

nothing :  but  I  ch  say,  they  are  much  less  than  is  com- 
monly supposed  ;  I  do  say,  as  a  general  rule,  that  the 
amount  of  useful  knowledge  which  men  acquire,  and  the 
good  they  do  with  it,  are  by  no  means  in  direct  proportion 
to  the  degree  to  which  they  have  enjoyed  what  are  com- 
monly called  the  great  advantages  of  life. 

4.  Wisdom  does  sometimes,  but  not  most  commonly, 
feed  her  children  with  a  silver  spoon.  I  believe  it  is  per- 
fectly correct  to  say,  that  a  small  proportion  only  of  those 
who  have  been  most  distinguished  for  the  improvement  of 
their  minds  have  enjoyed  the  best  advantages  for  educa- 
tion. I  do  not  mean  to  detract^  in  the  least  degree,  from 
the  advantag3s  of  the  various  seminaries  for  learning  which 
public  and  private  liberality  has  founded  in  our  country. 
They  serve  as  places  where  a  large  number  of  persons  are 
prepared  for  their  employment  in  the  various  occupations 
which  the  public  service  requires. 

5.  But,  I  repeat  it,  of  the  ^reat  benefactors  of  our  race, 
the  men  who,  by  wonderful  inventions,  remarkable  dis- 
coveries, and  extraordinary  improvements,  have  conferred 
the  most  eminent  service  on  their  fellow-men,  and  gained 
the  highest  names  in  history,  by  far  the  greater  part 
have  been  men  of  humble  origin,  narrow  fortunes,  small 
advantages,  and  self-tauo;ht. 

6.  And  this  springs  from  the  nature  of  the  mind  of  man, 
which  is  not,  like  natural  things,  a  vessel  to  be  filled  up 
from  without ;  into  which  you  may  pour  a  little  or  pour 
much,  and  then  measure,  as  with  a  gauge,  the  degrees  of 
knowledge  imparted.  The  knowledge  that  can  be  so  im~ 
parted  is  the  least  valuable  kind  of  knowledge ;  and  the 
man  who  has  nothing  but  this,  may  be  very  learned,  but  can 
not  be  very  wise.  In  this  great  respect,  —  the  most  im- 
portant that  touches  human  condition,  —  loe  are  all  equal. 


UNION  FIFTH  BEADER.  1G3 

T.  It  is  not  more  true,  tliat  all  men  possess  the  same 
natural  senses  and  organs,  than  that  their  minds  are  en- 
dowed with  the  same  capacities  for  improvement,  though 
not,  perliaps,  all  in  the  same  degree.  Shakspeare,^  whose 
productions  have  been  the  wonder  and  delight  of  all  who 
speak  the  English  language,  for  two  hundred  years,  was  a 
runaway  youth,  the  son  of  a  wool-comber;  and  Sir  Rich- 
ard Arkwright,^  who  invented  the  machinery  for  spinning 
cotton,  was  the  youngest  of  thirteen  children  of  a  poor 
peasant,  and,  till  he  was  thirty  years  of  age,  followed  the 
business  of  a  traveling  barber. 

8.  As  men  bring  into  the  world  with  them  an  equal 
intellectual  endowment^  that  is,  minds  equally  susceptible 
of  improvement,  so,  in  a  community  like  that  in  which  we 
have  the  happiness  to  live,  the  means  of  improvement  are 
much  more  equally  enjoyed  than  might  at  first  be  sup- 
posed. Whoever  has  learned  to  read,  possesses  the  keys 
of  Knowdedge  ;  and  can,  whenever  he  pleases,  not  only 
unlock  the  portals  of  her  temple,  but  penetrate  to  the 
inmost  halls  and  most  sacred  cabinets.  A  few  dollars,  the 
surplus  of  the  earnings  of  the  humblest  industry,  are  suffi- 
cient to  purchase  the  use  of  books  which  contain  the  ele- 
ments of  the  whole  circle  of  useful  knowledge. 

9.  It  may  be  thought  that  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
community  ivant  time  to  attend  to  the  cultivation  of  their 
minds.  But  it  is  only  necessary  to  make  the  experiment 
to  find  two  things :  one,  how  much  useful  knowledge  can 
be  acquired  in  a  very  little  time  ;  and  the  other,  how  much 
time  can  be  spared,  by  good  management,  out  of  the  busiest 
day.  There  are  very  few  pursuits  in  life  whose  duties  are 
so  incessant  that  they  do  not  leave  a  little  time,  every  day, 
to  a  man,  whose  temperate  and  regular  habits  allow  him 
the  comfort  of  a  clear  head  and  a  cheerful  temper,  in  the 


164  SAKDEES'  UNION   SEEIES. 

intervals  of  occupation  ;  and  then  there  is  one 
which  is  redeemed  to  us,  by  our  blessed  religion,  from  the 
calls  of  life,  and  affords  us  all  time  enough  for  the  im- 
provement of  our  rational  and  immortal  natures. 

10.  There  is  also  a  time  of  leisure,  which  Providence, 
in  this  climate,  has  secured  to  almost  every  man  who  has 
any  thing  which  can  be  called  a  home ;  I  mean  our  long 
winter  evenings.  This  season  seems  provided,  as  if  ex- 
pressly, for  the  purpose  of  furnishing  those  who  labor  with 
ample  opportunity  for  the  improvement  of  their  minds. 
The  severity  of  the  weather,  and  the  shortness  of  the  days, 
necessarily  limit  the  portion  of  time  which  is  devoted  to 
out-door  industry ;  and  there  is  little  to  tempt  us  abroad 
in  search  of  amusement. 

11.  Every  thing  seems  to  invite  us  to  employ  an  hour 
or  two  of  this  calm  and  quiet  season  in  the  acquisition  of 
useful  knowledge,  and  the  cultivation  of  the  mind.  The 
noise  of  life  is  hushed ;  the  pavement  ceases  to  resound 
with  the  din  of  laden  wheels,  and  the  tread  of  busy  men ; 
the  glaring  sun  has  gone  down,  and  the  moon  and  the 
stars  are  left  to  watch  in  the  lieavens  over  the  slumbers  of 
the  peaceful  creation.  The  mind  of  man  should  keep  its 
vigils  with  them ;  and  while  his  body  is  reposing  from  the 
labors  of  the  day,  and  his  feelings  are  at  rest  from  its  ex- 
citements, he  should  seek,  in  some  amusing  and  instruct- 
ive page,  a  substantial  food  for  the  craving  appetite 
for  knowledge. 

12.  If  we  needed  any  encouragement  to  make  these 
efforts  to  improve  our  minds,  we  might  find  it  in  every 
page  of  our  country's  history.  Nowhere  do  we  meet  with 
examples,  more  numerous  and  more  brilliant,  of  men  who 
have  risen  above  poverty  and  obscurity,  and  every  disad- 
vantage, to  usefulness  and  an  honorable  name-     Our  whole 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  1G5 

vast  continent  was  added  to  the  geography  of  the  woi'ld 
by  the  persevering  efforts  of  a  humble  Genoese  mariner, 
the  great  Columbus,^  who,  by  the  steady  pursuit  of  the 
enlightened  conception  he  had  formed  of  the  figure  of 
the  earth,  before  any  navigator  had  acted  upon  the  belief 
that  it  was  round,  discovered  the  American  continent. 

13.  He  was  the  son  of  a  Genoese  pilot,  a  pilot  and  sea- 
man himself;  and,  at  one  period  of  his  melancholy  career, 
was  reduced  to  beg  his  bread  at  the  doors  of  the  convents 
in  Spain.  But  he  carried  within  himself,  and  beneath  a 
humbler  exterior,  a  sinrit  for  which  there  was  not  room  in 
Spain,  in  Europe,  nor  in  the  then  known  world ;  and 
which  led  him  on  to  a  hiojht  of  usefulness  and  fame, 
beyond  that  of  all  the  monarchs  that  ever  reigned. 


LESSON   XLV. 

*  Per  ceite',  (per,  through;  ceive,  to  take,)  to  take  through  the  medium 

of  the  senses ;  to  see ;  to  diseern. 
^  Pre  cede',  (pre,  before;  cede,  to  go,)  to  go  before  in  order  of  time.     See 

Sanders'  Analysis,  page  40. 
8  Mil,'  ton,  John.     See  note,  p.  107. 

THE   CAPACITY   OF   AN  HOUR. 

JOHN    FOSTER. 

THE  omnipresent  Spirit  perceives^  all  but  an  infinite 
number  of  actions  taking  place  together  throughout 
the  different  regions  of  his  empire.  And,  by  tlie  end  of 
the  hour  which  has  just  begun,  a  greater  number  of  opera- 
tions ivill  have  been  performed^  which,  at  this  moment,  have 
not  been  performed^  than  the  collective  sum  of  all  that  has 
been  done  in  this  world  since  its  creation. 


166  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

2.  The  Jiour^  just  now  begun,  may  be  exactly  the  period 
for  finishing  some  great  plan^  or  concluding  some  great  dis- 
pensation^ which  thousands  of  years  or  ages  have  been 
advancing  to  its  accomplishment.  This  may  be  the  very 
hour  in  which  a  new  world  shall  originate,  or  an  ancient 
one  sink  in  ruins.  At  this  hour^  such  changes  and  phe- 
nomena may  be  displayed  in  some  parts  of  the  universe 
as  were  never  presented  to  the  astonishment  of  the  most 
ancient  created  minds. 

3.  At  this  very  hour  the  inhabitants  of  some  remote  orb 
may  be  roused  by  signs  analogous  to  those  which  we  anti- 
cipate to  precede^  the  final  judgment,  and  in  order  to  pre- 
pare them  for  such  an  event.  This  hour  may  somewhere 
be^in  or  conclude  mightier  contests  than  Milton"^  was  able 
to  imagine,  and  contests  producing  a  more  stupendous  re- 
sult, —  contests^  in  comparison  with  which  those  which 
shake  Europe  are  more  diminutive  than  those  of  the 
meanest  insects. 

4.  At  this  very  hour  thousands  of  amazing  enterprises 
may  be  undertaken,  and,  by  the  end  of  it,  a  progress 
made,  which,  to  us,  would  have  seemed  to  require  ages. 
At  this  hour  wise  intelligences  may  terminate  long  and 
patient  pursuits  of  knowledge  in  such  discoveries  as  siiall 
give  a  new  science  to  their  race. 

6.  At  this  hour  a  whole  race  of  improved  and  virtuous 
beings  may  be  elevated  to  a  higher  station  in  the  great 
system  of  beings.  At  this  hour  some  new  mode  of  divine 
operation,  some  new  law  of  Nature,  which  was  not  re-' 
quired  before,  may  be  introduced  into  the  first  trial  of 
its  action. 

6.  At  this  hour  the  most  strange  suspensions  of  regular 
laws  may  take  place  at  the  will  of  Him  that  appointed 
them,  for  the  sake  of  commanding  a  solemn  attention,  and 


UNION  FIFTH   RFADER.  167 

confirming  some  divine  communication  by  miracles.  At 
this  hour  the  inhabitants  of  the  creation  are  most  certainly 
performing  more  actions  than  any  faculty  of  mind,  loss 
than  infinite,  can  observe  or  remember. 

7.  All  this,  and  incomparably  more  than  all  this,  a  phi- 
losopher and  a  Christian  would  delight  to  imagine.  And 
all  that  he  can  imagine  in  the  widest  stretch  of  thought 
IS  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  what  most  certainly  takes 
place  in  so  vast  a  universe  ever^/  hour,  and  will  take  place 
this  veri/  hour,  in  which  these  faint  conjectures  are  indulged. 


LESSOI^    XLVI. 
EVENING  PRAYER.- 

CHANNING. 

LET  US  now  consider  another  part  of  the  day  which  is 
favorable  to  the  duty  of  prayer  ;  avc  mean  the  evening. 
This  season,  like  the  morning,  is  calm  and  quiet.  Our 
labors  are  ended.  The  bustle  of  life  is  gone  by.  The 
distracting  glare  of  the  day  has  vanished.  The  darkness 
which  surrounds  us  favors  seriousness,  composure,  and 
solemnity.  At  night,  the  earth  fades  from  our  sight,  and 
nothing  of  creation  is  left  to  us  but  the  starry  heavens,  so 
vast,  so  magnificent,  so  serene,  as  if  to  guide  up  our 
thoughts  above  all  earthly  things  to  God  and  immortality. 

2.  This  period  should,  in  part,  be  given  to  frayer,  as  it 
furnishes  a  variety  of  devotional  topics  and  excitements. 
The  evening,  is  the  close  of  an  important  division  of  time, 
and  is,  therefore,  a  fit  and  natural  season  for  stopping,  and 
looking  back  on  the  day.  And  can  Ave  ever  look  back  on  a 
day  which  bears  no  witness  to  God,  and  lays  no  claim  to 
our  gratitude'?     Who  is  it  that  strengthens  us  for  daily 


168  SANDEES'  UNION   SEBIES.' 

labor,  gives  us  daily  bread,  continues  our  friends  and  com- 
mon pleasures,  and  grants  us  the  privilege  of  retiring,  after 
the  cares  of  the  day,  to  a  quiet  and  beloved  home  ? 

3.  The  review  of  the  day  will  often  suggest  not  only 
these  ordinary  benefits,  but  ^:>eci*Zzar  ^;roo/s  of  God's  good- 
ness,—  unlooked-for  successes,  singular  concurrences  of 
favorable  events,  special  blessings  sent  to  our  friends,  or 
new  and  powerful  aids  to  our  own  virtue,  which  call  for 
peculiar  thankfulness.  And  shall  all  these  benefits  pass 
away  unnoticed'  ?  Shall  w^e  retire  to  repose  as  insensible 
as  the  wearied  brute'  ?  How  fit  and  natural  is  it  to  close, 
with  pious  acknowledgment,  that  day  which  has  been  filled 
with  Divine  beneficence ! 

4.  But  the  evening  is  the  time  to  review,  not  only  our 
blessings,  but  our  actions.  A  reflecting  mind  will  naturally 
remember,  at  this  hour,  that  another  day  is  gone,  and  gone 
to  testify  of  us  to  our  Judge.  How  natural  and  useful  to 
inquire  what  report  it  has  carried  to  Heaven  !  Perhaps  we 
have  the  satisfaction  of  looking  back  on  a  day,  which,  in 
its  general  tenor,  has  been  innocent  and  pure  ;  which,  hav- 
ing begun  with  God's  praise,  has  been  spent  as  in  His  pres- 
ence ;  which  has  proA^ed  the  reality  of  our  principles  in 
temptation :  and  shall  such  a  day  end  without  gratefully 
acknowledging  Him  in  whose  strength  we  have  been 
strong,  and  to  whom  we  owe  the  powers  and  opportunities 
of  Christian  improvement'  ? 

5.  But  no  day  will  present  to  us  recollections  of  purity 
unmixed  with  sin.  Conscience,  if  suffered  to  inspect  faith- 
fully and  speak  plainly,  will  recount  irregular  desires  and 
defective  motives,  talents  wasted  and  time  misspent ;  and 
shall  we  let  the  day  pass  from  us  without  penitently  con- 
fessing our  offenses  to  Him  who  has  witnessed  them,  and 
who  has  promised  pardon  to  true  repentance'  ?     Shall  we 


UNION   FIFTH  READER.  169 

retire  to  rest  with  a  burden  of  unlamented  and  nnforgiven 
guilt  upon  our  consciences'  ?  Shall  we  leave  these  stains 
to  spread  over  and  sink  into  the  soul'  ? 

6.  A  religious  recollection  of  our  lives  is  one  of  the  chief 
instruments  of  piety.  If  possible,  no  day  should  end  with- 
out it.  If  we  take  no  account  of  our  sins  on  the  day  on 
which  they  are  committed,  can  we  hope  that  they  will  re- 
cur to  us  at  a  more  distant  period,  that  we  shall  watch 
against  them  to-morrow,  or  that  we  shall  gain  the  strength 
to  resist  them,  which  we  will  not  implore'  ? 

7.  The  evening  is  a  fit  time  for  prayer,  not  only  as  it 
ends  the  day,  but  as  it  immediately  precedes  the  period  of 
repose.  The  hour  of  activity  having  passed,  we  are  soon 
to  sink  into  insensibility  and  sleep.  How  fit  that  we  resign 
ourselves  to  the  care  of  that  Being  who  never  sleeps,  to 
Avhom  the  darkness  is  as  the  light,  and  whose  providence  is 
our  only  safety !  How  fit  to  entreat  Him  that  He  would 
keep  us  to  another  day ;  or,  if  our  bed  should  prove  our 
grave,  that  He  would  give  us  a  part  in  the  resurrection  of 
the  just,  and  awake  us  to  a  purer  and  immortal  life  !  Let 
our  prayers,  like  the  ancient  sacrifices,  ascend  morning  and 
evening.     Let  our  days  begin  and  end  with  God. 


LESSON   XLYIL 

THE     TIME    FOR    PRAYER. 

ANON. 

1-  "TTTHEN  is  the  time  for  prayer  ? 

Y  T     With  the  first  beams  that  light  the  morning  sky, 
Ere  for  the  toils  of  day  thou  dost  prepare, 
Lift  up  thy  thoughts  on  high  ; 
8 


170  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

Commend  thy  loved  ones  to  His  watchful  care : 
Morn  is  the  time  for  prayer: 

2.  And  in  the  noontide  hour, 

If  worn  by  toil,  or  by  sad  cares  oppressed, 
Then  unto  God  thy  spirit's  sorrow  pour, 

And  He  will  give  thee  rest ; 
Thy  voice  shall  reach  Him  through  the  fields  of  air : 
Noon  is  the  time  for  prayer. 

8.  When  the  bright  sun  hath  set, 

While  eve's  bright  colors  deck  the  skies. 

When  with  the  loved  at  home  again  thou'st  met, 
Then  let  thy  prayers  arise 

For  those  who  in  thy  joys  and  sorrows  share : 
Eve  is  the  time  for  prayer. 

4.  And  when  the  stars  come  forth  ; 

When    to    the    trusting   heart    sweet    hopes    are 
given, 
And  the  deep  stillness  of  the  hour  gives  birth 

To  pure,  bright  dreams  of  Heaven,  — 
Kneel  to  thy  God,  ask  strength  life's  ills  to  bear : 
Night  is  the  time  for  prayer. 

L  When  is  the  time  for  prayer  ? 

In  every  hour^  while  life  is  spared  to  thee ; 
In  crowds  or  solitude,  in  joy  or  care. 

Thy  thoughts  should  heavenward  flee. 
At  rriorn,  at  noon,  and  eve,  with  loved  ones  there, 

Bend  thou  the  knee  in  prayer ! 


tJNION  FIFTH  BEADEB.  171 

LESSON   XLVIII. 
ONE   BY   ONE. 

ADELAIDE    A.   PROCTER. 

1.  /^NE  by  one  the  sands  are  flowing ; 
\J     One  by  one  the  moments  fall ; 
Some  are  coming,  some  are  going : 

Do  not  strive  to  grasp  them  all. 

2.  One  by  one  thy  duties  wait  thee ; 

Let  thy  whole  strength  go  to  each ; 
Let  no  future  dreams  elate  thee : 

Learn  thou  first  what  these  can  teach. 

3.  One  by  one,  (briglit  gifts  from  Heaven,) 

Joys  are  sent  thee  here  below : 
Take  them  readily  when  given, 
Ready,  too,  to  let  them  go. 

4.  One  by  one  thy  griefs  shall  meet  thee ; ' 

Do  not  fear  an  armed  band  ; 
One  will  fade  as  others  ojreet  thee,  — 
Shadows  passing  through  the  land. 

6.  Do  not  look  at  life's  long  sorrow  ; 

See  how  small  each  moment's  pain  : 
God  will  help  thee  for  to-morrow ; 
So  each  day  begin  again. 

6.  Every  hour  that  fleets  so  slowly 
Has  its  task  to  do  or  bear ; 
Luminous  the  crown,  and  holy. 
When  each  orem  is  set  with  care. 


17^  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

7.  Do  not  linger  with  regretting, 

Or  for  passing  hours  despond  ; 
Nor,  tlie  daily  toil  forgetting, 
Look  too  eagerly  beyond. 

8.  Hours  are  golden  links,  God's  token. 

Reaching  Heaven  ;  but,  one  by  one, 
Take  them,  lest  the  chain  be  broken 
Ere  the  pilgrimage  be  done. 


LESSON   XLIX. 

•Nep'  tune,  (the  son  of  Saturn  and  Ops,)  the  god  of  the  sea,  fountains, 

and  rivers.     He  is  represented  as  bearing  a  trident  (a  spear  with  three 

prongs)  for  a  scepter. 
'  Mer'  cu  ry  (the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Maia)  was  the  fabled  messenger  and 

interpreter  of  the  gods,  and  the  god  of  eloquence  and  commerce. 
'Jove,  or  Ju' pi  ter,  (the  son  of  Saturn,)  was  the  chief  divinity  of  the 

ancient  Romans. 

INVENTIVE  GENIUS  AND  LABOR. 

elihu  burritt. 

THE  physical  necessity  of  mental  activity^  in  every  prac- 
tical sense,  confers  upon  the  mind  the  power  to  deter- 
mine our  stature,  strength,  and  longevity  ;  to  multiply  our 
organs  of  sense,  and  increase  their  capacity,  in  some  cases, 
to  thirty  million  times  their  natural  power.  This  capacity 
of  the  mind  is  not  a  mere  prospective  possibility ;  it  is  a 
fact,  —  a  tried,  practical  fact ;  and  the  human  mind  is 
more  busy  than  ever  in  extending  this  prerogative. 

2.  Let  us  look  in  upon  man  while  engaged  in  the  very 
act  of  adding  to  his  natural  strength  these  gigantic  faculties. 
See  him  yonder,  bending  over  his  stone  mortar,  and  pound- 
ing, and  thumping,  and  sweating,  to  pulverize  his  flinty 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  173 

grain  into  a  more  esculent  form.  He  stops  and  looks  a 
moment  into  the  precipitous  torrent  thundering  down  its 
rocky  channel.  There  !  A  thought  has  struck  him.  He 
begins  to  whistle :  he  wliittles  some ;  for  he  learned  to 
w] little  soon  after  he  learned  to  breathe.  He  gears  together, 
some  horizontally,  and  others  perpendicularly,  a  score  of 
little  wooden  wheels.  He  sets  them  agoing,  and  claps  his 
hands  in  triumph  to  see  what  they  would  do  if  a  thousand 
times  larger. 

3.  Look  at  him  again !  How  proudly  he  stands,  with 
folded  arms,  looking  at  the  huge  things  that  are  working 
for  him  !  He  has  made  that  wild,  raging  torrent  as  tame 
as  his  horse.  He  has  tauo-ht  it  to  walk  backward  and  for- 
ward.  He  has  given  it  hands,  and  put  the  crank  of  his  big 
wheel  into  them,  and  made  it  turn  his  ponderous  grind- 
stone. What  a  taskmaster !  Look  at  him  again  !  He  is 
standing  on  the  ocean  beach,  watching  the  crested  billows 
as  they  move  in  martial  squadrons  over  the  deep.  He  has 
conceived  or  heard  that  richer  productions,  more  delicious 
fruits  and  flowers,  may  be  found  on  yonder  invisible  shore. 
In  an  instant  his  mind  sympathizes  with  the  yearnings  of 
his  physical  nature. 

4.  See  !  there  is  a  new  thought  in  his  eye.  He  remem- 
bers how  he  first  saddled  the  horse  :  he  now  bits  and  saddles 
the  mountain  wave.  Not  satisfied  with  taming  this  proud 
element,  he  breaks  another  into  his  service.  Remembering 
his  mill-dam,  he  constructs  a  floating  dam  of  canvas  in  the 
air,  to  harness  the  winds  to  his  ocean-wa^on.  Thus,  with 
his  water-horse  and  air-horse  harnessed  in  tandem*  lie 
drives  across  the  wilderness  of  waters  with  a  team  that 
would  make  old  Neptune^  hide  his  diminished  head  for 
envy,  and  sink  his  clumsy  chariot  beneath  the  waves. 

*  In  tandem,  one  after  another. 


174  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

5.  See  now !  he  wants  something  else :  his  appetite  for 
something  better  than  he  has,  grows  upon  what  he  feeds  on. 
The  fact  is,  he  has  plodded  about  in  his  one-horse  wagon 
till  he  is  disgusted  with  his  poor  capacity  of  locpmotion. 
The  wings  of  Mercury,^  modern  eagles,  and  paper  kites,  are 
all  too  imp'acticable  for  models.  He  settles  down  upon  the 
persuasion  that  he  can  make  a  great  Iron  Horse,  with 
bones  of  steel  and  muscles  of  brass,  that  will  run  against 
Time  with  Mercury,  or  any  other  winged  messenger  of 
Jove,'  —  the  daring  man  ! 

6.  He  brings  out  his  huge  leviathan  upon  the  track. 
How  the  giant  creature  struts  forth  from  his  stable,  panting 
to  be  gone  !  His  great  heart  is  a  furnace  of  glowing  coals ; 
his  lymphatic  blood  is  boiHng  in  his  veins ;  the  strength  of 
a  thousand  horses  is  nerving  his  iron  sinews.  But  his  mas- 
ter reins  him  with  one  finger^  till  the  whole  of  some  Western 
village — men,  women,  children,  and  half  their  homed  cat- 
tle, sheep,  poultry,  wheat,  cheese,  and  potatoes — has  been 
stowed  away  in  that  long  train  he  has  harnessed  to  his 
foaming:  steam-horse. 

7.  And  now  he  shouts,  interrogatively,  "  All  right'  ?  " 
and,  applying  a  burning  goad  to  the  huge  creature,  away  it 
thunders  over  the  iron  road,  breathing  forth  fire  and  smoke 
in  its  indignant  haste  to  outstrip  the  wind.  More  terrible 
than  the  war-horse*  in  Scripture,  clothed  with  louder  thun- 
der, and  emitting  a  cloud  of  flame  and  burning  coals  from 
his  iron  nostrils,  he  dashes  on  through  dark  mountain 
passes,  over  jutting  precipices  and  deep  ravines.  His  tread 
shakes  the  earth  like  a  traveling  Niagara,  and  the  sound 
of  his  chariot-wheels  warns  the  people  of  distant  towns  that 
he  is  coming. 

*  tiee  syth  chap,  oi  Job,  20-25tU  verses. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  175 


LESSON     L. 
THE  RESULTS   OF   WORK. 

DR.  J.  G.  HOLLAND. 

INDEPENDENCE  and  self-respect  are  essential  to 
happiness ;  and  these  are  never  to  be  attained  withoi  t 
earnest  work.  It  is  impossible  that  a  man  shall  be  a  droncy 
and  go  through  life  without  a  purpose  which  contemplates 
worthy  resuhs,  and,  at  the  same  time,  maintain  his  self- 
respect.  No  idle  man,  however  rich  he  may  be,  can  feel 
th»  genuine  independence  of  him  who  earns  honestly  and 
manfully  his  daily  bread. 

2.  The  idle  man  stands  outside  of  God's  plan,  —  outside 
tbe  ordained  scheme  of  things  ;  and  the  truest  self-respect, 
the  noblest  independence,  and  the  most  genuine  dignity, 
are  not  to  be  found  there.  The  man  who  does  his  part  in 
life,  who  pursues  a  worthy  end,  and  who  takes  care  of  him- 
self, is  the  happy  man.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  cant 
afloat  about  the  dignity  of  labor,  uttered  mostly,  perhaps, 
by  those  who  know  little  about  it  experimentally;  but 
labor  has  a  dignity  which  attaches  to  little  else  that  is 
human. 

8.  To  labor  rightly  and  earnestly  is  to  walk  in  the 
golden  track  that  leads  to  God.  It  is  to  adopt  the  regi- 
men of  manhood  and  womanhood.  It  is  to  come  into 
sympathy  with  the  great  struggle  of  humanity  toward  per- 
fection. It  is  to  adopt  the  fellowship  of  all  the  great  and 
good  the  world  has  ever  known.  I  suppose  that  all  God's 
purposes  in  work  are  fulfilled  in  the  completion  of  the  dis- 
cipline of  the  worker ;  and  the  results  of  work  are  doubt- 
less laid  under  tribute  for  this  end. 

4.  It  is  in  achievement  that  Work  throws  off  all  her  re- 


176  SANDERS'    UNION   SERIES. 

pulsive  features,  and  assumes  tlie  form  and  functions  of  an 
angel.  Before  her,  like  a  dissolving  scene,  the  forest  fades, 
with  its  vvild  beasts  and  its  wild  men  ;  and,  under  her  hand, 
smiling  villages  rise  among  the  hills  and  on  the  plains,  and 
yellow  harvests  spread  the  fields  with  gold.  The  city, 
with  its  docks  and  warehouses,  and  churches  and  palaces, 
springs,  at  her  bidding,  into  being. 

5.  The  trackless  ocean  mirrors  her  tireless  pinions  as 
she  ransacks  the  climes  for  the  food  of  commerce,  or  flames 
with  the  torches  of  her  steam-sped  messengers.  She  binds 
states  and  marts  and  capitals  together  with  bars  of  iron 
that  thunder  with  the  ceaseless  rush  of  life  and  trade. 
She  pictures  all  scenes  of  beauty  on  canvas,  and  carves  all 
forms  of  excellence  in  marble.  Into  huge  libraries  she 
pours  the  wealth  of  countless  precious  lives.  She  erects 
beautiful  and  convenient  homes  for  men  and  women  to 
dwell  in,  and  weaves  the  fibers  which  Nature  prepares  mto 
fabrics  for  their  covering  and  comfort. 

6.  She  rears  great  civilizations  that  run  like  mountain- 
ranges  through  the  level  countries,  their  summits  sleeping 
among  the  clouds,  or  still  flaming  with  the  fire  that  fills 
them,  or  looming  grandly  in  the  purple  haze  of  history. 
Nature  furnishes  material,  and  Work  fashions  it.  By  the 
hand  of  Art,  Work  selects,  and  molds,  and  modifies,  and 
recombines  that  which  it  finds,  and  gives  utterance  and 
being  to  those  compositions  of  matter  and  of  thought 
which  build  for  man  a  new  world,  with  special  adaptation 
to  his  desires,  tastes,  and  necessities.  Man's  record 
upon  this  wild  world  is  the  record  of  ivorh^  and  of  work 
alone. 

7.  Work  explores  the  secrets  of  the  universe,  and  brings 
back  those  contributions  which  make  up  the  sum  of  human 
knowledge.     It  counts  the  ribs  of  the  mountains,  and  feels 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  177 

the  pulses  of  the  sea,  and  traces  the  foot-paths  of  the  stars, 
and  calls  the  animals  of  the  forest,  and  the  birds  of  the 
air,  and  the  flowers  of  the  field,  by  name.  It  summons 
horses  of  fire  and  chariots  of  fire  from  heaven,  and  makes 
them  the  bearers  of  its  thought.  It  plunders  the  tombs  of 
dead  nationalities,  and  weaves  living  histories  from  the 
shreds  it  finds. 

8.  How  wonderful  a  being  is  man,  when  viewed  in  the 
lisht  of  his  achievements  I  It  is  in  the  record  of  these  that 
we  find  the  evidence  of  his  power,  and  the  credentials  of 
his  glory.  Into  the  results  of  work  each  generation  pours 
its  life  ;  and,  as  the  results  grow  in  excellence,  with  broader 
forais,  and  richer  tints,  and  nobler  meanings,  they  become 
the  indexes  of  the  world's  progress.  We  estimate  the  life 
of  a  generation  hj  what  it  does;  and  the  results  of  its  work 
stand  out  in  advance  of  its  successor,  to  show  it  what  it 
can  do,  and  to  show  it  what  it  must  do,  to  reach  a  finer 
consummation. 

9.  Thus  Work,  in  her  results,  lifts  each  generation  in  the 
world's  progress  from  step  to  step,  shortening  the  ladder 
upon  which  the  angels  ascend  and  descend,  and  climbing  by 
ever  brio-hter  and  broader  2;radations  toward  the  ultimate 
perfection.  A  new  and  more  glorious  gift  of  power 
compensates  for  each  worthy  expenditure ;  So  that  it 
is  by  work  that  man  carves  his  way  to  that  measure  of 
power  which  will  fit  him  for  his  destiny,  and  leave  him 
nearest  God. 

10.  Hammer  away,  thou  sturdy  smith,  at  that  bar  of 
iron !  for  thou  art  bravely  forging  thy  own  destiny.  Weave 
on  in  glad  content,  industrious  worker  of  the  mill !  for  thou 
art  weaving  cloth  of  gold,  though  thou  seest  not  its  luster. 
Plow  and  plant,  and  rear  and  reap,  ye  tillers  of  the  soil ! 
for  those  brown  acres  of  yours  are  pregnant  with  nobler 

12 


178  SAKDEBS'  UNION  SEHIES. 

fruitage  than  that  which  hung  in  Eden.  Let  Commerce 
fearlessly  send  out  her  ships ;  for  there  is  a  haven  where 
they  will  arrive  at  last,  with  freighted  wealth  below,  and 
flying  streamers  above,  and  jubilant  crews  between.  Work- 
ing well  for  the  minor  good  and  the  chief  good  of  life,  you 
shall  win  your  way  to  the  great  consummation,  and  find 
in  your  hands  the  golden  key  that  will  open  for  you  the 
riddle  of  your  history. 


LESSON   LL 

*  Car  lyle",  Thomas,  an  eccentric  writer,  was  bom  in  Scotland,  1796. 
Ilis  style,  at  first,  was  simple  and  eloquent ;  latterly  he  became  affected 
and  grotesque,  though  often  vigorous. 

OUR  DEEDS  IMPERISHABLE. 

L.   H.   GRIN  DON. 

NO  man  is  happier  than  he  who  loves  and  fulfills 
that  particular  work  for  the  world  which  falls  to  his 
share.  Even  thouojh  the  full  understanding!:  of  his -work 
and  of  its  ultimate  value  may  not  be  present  Avith  him,  if 
he  but  love  it,  and  his  conscience  approve,  it  brings  an 
abounding  satisfaction.  Indeed,  none  of  us  fully  compre- 
liond  our  office,  nor  the  issues  we  are  working  for. 

2.  To  man  is  intrusted  the  nature  of  his  actions,  and 
not  the  result  of  them.  This,  God  keeps  out  of  our  sight. 
The  most  trivial  act,  doubtless,  goes  to  the  promotion  of  a 
multitude  of  ends,  distant  it  may  be  to  ourselves,  but  only 
as  the  leaves  of  a  tree  are  distant  from  their  supplying 
rootlets ;  and  therefore  does  it  behoove  us  to  be  diligent  in 
our  several  spheres.  We  should  work  like  the  bees,  sedu- 
lous to  collect  all  the  honey  within  our  reach,  but  leaving 
to  Providence  to  order  w^hat  shall  come  of  it. 


i 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  179 

3.  The  good  which  our  exertions  effect,  may  rarely  or 
never  become  visible.  In  teaching,  w^hich  is  the  readiest 
of  good  uses,  how  often  does  all  exertion  seem  in  vain ! 
Our  duti/  is,  nevertheless,  to  persevere,  and  strive  to  do  all 
we  can,  leaving  the  result  with  Providence.  Every  man 
should  go  on  working,  never  debating  within  himself,  nor 
wavering  in  doubt,  whether  it  mai/  succeed,  but  labor  as  if^ 
Df  necessity,  it  must  succeed. 

4.  Between  the  result  of  a  single  effort  and  the  end  we 
have  in  view,  and  the  magnitude  of  the  obstacles  to  be 
overcome,  there  may  often  appear  a  large  and  painful 
disproportion :  but  we  must  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  dis- 
couraged by  seeming s  ;  warm,  hearty,  sunny  endeavor  will 
unfaihngly  meet  with  its  reward.  Good  uses  are  never 
without  result.  Once  enacted,  they  become  a  part  of  the 
moral  world.  They  give  to  it  a  new  enrichment  and 
beauty,  and  the  whole  universe  partakes  of  their  influence. 
They  may  not  return  in  the  shape  wherein  played  forth, 
but  likelier  after  the  manner  of  seed,  which  never  forgets 
to  turn  to  flowers. 

5.  Philosophers  tell  us,  that,  since  the  creation  of  the 
world,  not  one  particle  of  matter  has  been  lost.  It  may 
have  passed  into  new  shapes ;  it  may  have  combined  with 
other  elements  ;  it  may  have  floated  away  in  vapor :  but  it 
comes  back  some  time,  in  the  dew-drop  or  the  rain,  helping 
tlie  leaf  to  grow,  and  the  fruit  to  swell :  through  all  its 
wanderings  and  transformations.  Providence  watches  over 
and  directs  it.  So  it  is  with  every  generous  and  self-deny- 
ing effort.  It  may  escape  our  observation,  and  be  utterly 
forgotten  ;  it  ma}^  seem  to  have  been  utterly  in  vain  :  but 
it  has  painted  itself  on  the  eternal  world,  and  is  never 
effaced.  Nothing  that  has  the  ideas  and  principles  of 
Heaven  in  it  can  die  or  be  fruitless. 


180  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

6.  "  Talk  not  of  wasted  affection ;  affection  never  was 

wasted : 

If  it  enrich  not  the  heart  of  another,  its  waters  re- 
turning 

Back  to  their  spring,  Hke  the  rain,  shall  fill  it  full 
of  refreshment. 

That  which  the  fountain  sends  forth,  returns  again 
to  the  fountain." 

7.  Carlyle^  says,  '^  It  is  from  our  worh  we  gain  most  of 
©ur  self-knowledge, —  one  of  the  most  important  desiderata^ 
of  life.  Our  works  are  the  mirror  within  which  the  spirit 
first  sees  its  natural  lineaments.  'Know  thyself^  is  an 
impossihle  precept  till  it  be  translated  into  this  partially 
possible  one.  Know  what  thou  canst  work  atJ'^  Work  is 
obedience,  and  self-knowledge  is  invaluable ;  and  thus  is 
proved  that  duty  and  interest  are  but  two  name?  for 
one  fact. 


LESSON   LIT. 
THE    USES    OF    LIFE. 

HARPER'S  MAGAZINE. 

THOUGH  we  climb  Fame's  proudest  hight ; 
Though  we  sit  on  hills  afar. 
Where  the  thrones  of  triumph  are  ; 
Though  all  deepest  mysteries  be  open  to  our  sight 
If  we  win  not  by  that  power 
For  the  world  another  dower,  — 
If  this  great  Humanity  share  not  in  our  gain, — 
We  have  lived  our  life  in  vain, 

*  Desiderata,  things  desired. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEK.  181 

2.  Though  we  revel  in  sweet  dreams ; 

Though  with  poet's  eye  we  look 
Full  on  Nature's  open  book, 
And  our   spirits  wander,  singing  with   the  birds  and 
streams,  — 

If  we  let  no  music  in 
To  the  world  of  grief  and  sin, — 
If  we  draw  no  spirit  heavenward  by  the  strain, — 
We  have  lived  our  life  in  vain. 


3.  Though  our  lot  be  calm  and  bright ; 

Though  upon  our  brows  we  wear 

Youth,  and  grace,  and  beauty  rare. 
And  the  hours  go  swiftly,  singing  in  their  flight ; 

If  we  let  no  glory  down 

Any  darkened  life  to  crown, — 
If    our    grace    and    joyance    have    no    ministry    for 
pain, — 

We  have  lived  our  life  in  vain, 

4.  Though  for  weary  years  we  toil ; 

Though  we  gather  all  the  gold 
From  the  mines  of  wealth  untold  ; 
Though  from  farthest  shores  of  ocean  we  have  brought 
the  spoil ; 

What,  at  the  last,  is  won, 
If  Ave  hear  not  God's  "  Well  done  "  ? 
If  the  world's  want  and  sorrow  be  not  lessened  by  our 
gain, 

We  have  lived  our  life  in  vain. 


182  BAKDEHS'  UNION  SERIES. 

5.  Though  we  be,  in  heart  and  hand, 
Mighty  with  all  foes  to  cope. 
Rich  in  courage  and  in  hope. 
Fitted  as  strong  laborers  in  the  world  to  stand ; 
If  with  these  we  right  no  wrong, 
What  avails  it  to  be  strong  ? 
If  we  strengthen  not  the  weak,  raise  not  the  bowed 
again, — 

We  have  lived  our  life  in  vain. 


6.  To  the  giver  shall  be  given  : 

If  thou  wouldest  walk  in  light, 

Make  other  spirits  bright  : 
Who,  seeking  for  himself  alone,  ever  entered  Heaven  ? 

In  blessing  we  are  blest ; 

In  labor  find  our  rest : 
If  we  bend  not  to  the  world's  work,  heart,  and  hand, 
and  brain, — 

We  have  lived  our  life  in  vain, 

7.  Selfishness  is  utter  loss : 

Life's  most  perfect  joy  and  good  — 
Ah  !  how  few  have  understood  ! 
Only  One  hath  proved  it  fully,  and  He  died  upon  the 
cross. 

Taking  on  Himself  the  curse 
So  to  bless  a  universe  : 
If  we   follow  not  His  footsteps  through  the  pathway 
straight  and  plain, — 

We  have  lived  our  life  in  vain* 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEE.  183 

LESSON     LIII. 
LOFTY    ASPIRATIONS. 

DEM.   REVIEW. 

1.  /^EASE  your  wild  fluttering,  thoughts  that  fill  the  soul  I 
yj      Silence  awhile  ;  'tis  but  the  hour  of  birth  ! 
Spurn  not  impatiently  the  miners  control, 

Nor  seek  the  clouds  ere  ye  have  looked  on  earth : 
Still  your  strong  beating  till  the  day  has  gone 

And  starry  eve  comes  on ! 

2.  Tr%  would  ye  sweep  so  proudly  through  the  sky, 

With  fearless  wing  the  snow-crowned  hills  above, 
"Where  the  strong  eagle  scarcely  dares  to  fly, 

And  the  cloud-armies  thunder  as  they  rove,  — 
Make  in  the  solitude  of  storms  your  path, 

And  tempt  the  lightning's  wrath? 

8.  Will  ye  not  linger  in  the  earth's  green  fields 
Till  the  first  feebleness  of  youth  is  o'er ; 
Clasp  the  fresh  joy  that  young  existence  yields 

In  the  bright  present,  and  desire  no  more' ; 
Lulled  among  blossoms,  down  Life's  morning  stream 
Glide  in  Elysian  dream'  ? 

4.  Throb  not  so  wildly,  restless  spirit,  now ! 

Deep  and  undying  though  thy  impulse  be : 
Would  not  the  roses  Avither  on  thy  brow, 

AVhen  from  thy  weary  chains  at  last  made  free'  ? 
In  such  hot  glare,  Avould  not  the  proud  crest  stoop. 

And  the  scorched  pinion  droop'  ? 


184  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

5.  I  pause.     In  might  the  thronging  thoughts  arise, — 

Hopes  unfulfilled,  and  glory  yet  afar,  — 
Vague,  restless  longings  that  would  seek  the  skies, 

And  back  in  flame  come  like  a  falling  star : 
I  hear  ye  in  the  heart's  loud  beating  seek 

A  voice  wherewith  to  speak : 

6.  "  Say,  can  the  children  of  a  loftier  sphere 

Find  on  the  earth  the  freedom  they  desire'? 
Can  the  strong  spirit  fold  its  pinions  here. 

And  give  to  joy  the  utterance  of  its  lyre'  ? 
Can  the  fledged  eaglet,  born  where  sunbeams  burn, 
Back  into  darkness  turn '  ? 

7.  "  Must  not  the  wing,  that  would  aspire  to  sweep 

Through  realms  undarkened  by  the  breath  of  sin, 
Dare  in  its  earliest  flight  the  trackless  deep, 

Nor  faint  and  feebly  on  the  earth  begin,  — 
Mount  as  a  soaring  lark  in  morning's  glow. 

And  leave  the  mists  below'? 

8.  "  We  feel,  in  heaven's  own  ether,  calm  and  high, 

A  god-like  strength,  the  storms  of  earth  to  stem ; 
The  volleyed  thunders  from  our  ])atliway  fly ;       * 

We  twine  the  lig-htninor  for  a  diadem ! 
Far,  far  below,  the  clouds  in  darkness  move ; 

The  sun  is  bright  above ! 

9.  "No  soul  can  soar  too  loftily,  whose  aim 

Is  God-given  truth  and  brother-love  of  man ; 
Who  builds  in  hearts  the  altars  of  his  fame. 

And  ends  in  love  what  sympathy  began. 
Spirit,  ascend  !  though  far  thy  flight  may  be, 

God  then  is  nearer  thee  !  " 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  185 


LESSON   LIT. 

*  West  Point,  an  important  military  post,  is  situated  on  the  Hudson,  just 
below  Newburg.  During  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  the  infamous 
Benedict  Arnold,  who  was  in  command  of  this  post,  agreed  to  deliver 
it  up  to  the  British.     It  is  now  the  seat  of  the  United-States  Academy. 

GENERAL  WASHINGTON'S  ESCAPE. 


THE  name  of  Washington  is  dear  to  every  American. 
Distinguished  not  only  for  iDravery  and  intelUgence, 
but  for  the  purest  virtues  which  can  adorn  the  human 
heart,  he  has  been  venerated  in  the  memory  of  distant 
nations,  and  immortalized  by  the  blessings  he  shed  upon 
his  country.  He  resembles  the  orb  of  day,  imparting  its 
twilight  long  after  it  is  set,  and  invisibly  dispensing  its 
light  and  cheering  warmth  to  the  world. 

2.  Cautious  and  prudent,  he  was  never  surprised  by  the 
most  disheartening  failures,  nor  alarmed  into  compliance 
by  the  most  undaunted  threats.  His  eye  could  penetrate 
the  darkest  designs,  and  his  powers  of  invention  enabled 
him  to  escape  the  most  formidable  stratagems.  The  very 
means  employed  by  the  enemy  to  incommode  him,  were 
frequently,  in  his  own  hands,  the  instruments  of  their  ruin. 
The  following  account  of  his  escape  from  a  treacherous 
plot  to  insnare  him  will  serve  as  an  illustration  of  his  vigi- 
lance and  eagle-eyed  caution. 

3.  When  the  American  army  was  stationed  at  West 
Point  ,^  during  the  Revolutionary  War,  the  British  head- 
quarters were  not  many  miles  distant,  on  the  Hudson ; 
and  each  was  waiting,  like  the  figures  on  a  chess-board, 
for  some  favorable  movement  to  disconcert  and  thwart  the 
operations  of  the  other.     Scouting-parties  would  engage  in 


186  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

frequent  skirmishes  ;  and  wagons  of  provisions,  ammuni- 
tion, and  clothing,  would  fall  into  the  power  of  those  supe- 
rior in  number  and  dexterity. 

4.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  a  quantity  of  English  uni- 
form was  seized  by  an  American  detachment ;  and  several 
notable  advantages  obtained  by  the  latter,  inspired  the 
enemy  with  a  desire  to  retaliate.  About  this  time,  while 
at  West  Point,  General  Washington  had  an  intimate  ac- 
quaintance residing  not  far  from  the  army,  in  whose  family 

^he  enjoyed  the  kindest  hospitality,  as  well  as  relief  from 
many  of  those  sterner  engagements  which  harassed  his 
weary  mind.  As  every  circumstance  was  watched  by 
either  army,  a  visit  like  this,  not  many  miles  from  their 
camp,  could  not  long  escape  the  cognizance  of  the  British ; 
and  to  possess  a  prisoner  like  General  Washington,  would 
tend,  in  their  opinion,  to  shorten  the  period  of  the  war. 

5.  But  the  undertaking  was  difficult :  there  were  always 
advance  guards  to  cover  the  American  commander,  and 
there  was  no  mode  of  discovering  his  visits  except  by  win- 
ning over  some  one  of  the  family.  The  friend  whom  the 
general  visited  was  once  thought  to  have  espoused  the 
interests  of  the  British ;  but  he  had  taken  a  decided  stand 
in  favor  of  America,  and,  though  a  brave  man,  he  professed 
the  strictest  neutrality,  alleging,  as  his  reason,  his  advanced 
years  and  dependent  family. 

6.  During  the  intima(;y  of  the  general,  it  was  rumored 
in  the  American  army  that  his  friend  had  been  seen  often 
returning  from  the  British  camp.  Washington  seemed  to 
disregard  the  report ;  for  he  never  ceased  to  visit  the  fam- 
ily, and  apparently  mingled  as  cordially  with  the  host  as  if 
no  suspicion  had  crossed  his  mind.  At  length,  one  day,  as 
the  general  was  taking  his  leave,  his  friend  earnestly  re- 
quested him  to  dine  with  him  the  following  afternoon,  em- 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  187 

pliatlcally  naming  the  hour  of  two  o'clock  as  the  moment 
of  expecting  him. 

7.  He  reminded  liim  of  the  uncommon  dehght  which  his 
intimacy  conferred  ;  begged  him  to  lay  aside  every  formal- 
ity, and  regard  his  house  as  his  home  ;  and  hinted  that  he 
feared  the  general  did  not  consider  it  in  that  light,  as  the 
guard,  that  always  accompanied  him,  seemed  to  indicate  ho 
was  not  visiting  a  friend.  "  By  no  means,  dear  sir !"  ex 
claimed  the  worthy  patriot :  "  and,  as  a  proof  of  the  confi- 
dence' which  I  repose  in  you,  I  will  visit  you  alone  to-mor- 
row ;  and  I  pledge  my  sacred  word  of  honor  that  not  a 
soldier  shall  accompany  me." 

8.  "  Pardon  me,  general,"  cried  the  host;  "but  why  so 
serious  on  so  trifling  a  subject?  I  merely  jested."  —  "I 
am  aware  of  it,"  said  the  hero,  smiling  ;  "  but  what  of  that  ? 
I  have  long  considered  the  planting  of  these  outposts  un- 
necessary, inasmuch  as  they  may  excite  the  suspicion  of 
the  enemy ;  and,  although  it  be  a  trifle,  that  trifle  shall  not 
sport  with  the  friendship  you  indulge  for  me."  — "  But 
then  —  the  hour,  general  ?  "  —  "  Oh,  yes  !  two  o^ clock,  you 
said?"  —  ''Precisely,"  returned  the  other. 

9.  At  one  o'clock,  on  the  following  day,  the  general 
mounted  his  favorite  horse,  and  proceeded  alone  upon  a 
by-road  which  conducted  him  to  the  hospitable  mansion. 
It  was  about  half  an  hour  before  the  time  ;  and  the  bustling 
host  received  him  with  open  arms,  in  addition  to  the  greet- 
ings of  the  delighted  family.  "  How  punctual^  kind  suM" 
exclaimed  the  warm-hearted  friend.  '^ Punctuality/, ^^  re- 
plied Washington,  "is  an  angel  virtue,  embracing  minor 
as  well  as  important  concerns.  He  that  is  not  punctual 
with  Si  friend^  may  doubt  his  integrity."  The  host  started  ; 
but,  recovering  himself,  he  added,  "  Then  7/ours  is  a  proof 
that  we  enjoy  your  fullest  confidence." 


188  SANDEES'  UNION   SERIES. 

10.  Washington  proposed  a  promenade  upon  tlie  piazza 
previous  to  the  dinner.  It  overlooked  a  rough  country  sev- 
eral miles  in  extent,  —  fields  of  grain  here  and  there  sweep- 
ing beneath  the  sides  of  bleak  hills,  producing  nothing  but 
rocks  and  grass;  shallow  runnels  of  water  flowing  along 
the  hollows  of  the  uneven  waste,  then  hidden  by  wood- 
lands, intercepting  a  prospect  of  the  country  beyond ; 
spotted  now  and  then  with  silver  glimpses  of  the  Hudson, 
stealing  through  the  sloping  grounds  below,  and  checkered 
on  both  sides  by  the  dim,  purple  Highlands,  frowning  some- 
times into  hoary  battlements,  and  tapering  again  into  gentle 
valleys  hardly  illuminated  by  the  sun. 

11.  "This  is  fine,  bold  scenery!"  exclaimed  the  general, 
apparently  absorbed  in  the  beauty  of  the  prospect.  "  Yes, 
sir,"  replied  his  friend,  looking  wistfully  around,  as  if  ex- 
pecting some  one's  approach ;  but,  catching  the  piercing 
glance  of  Washington,  his  eyes  were  fastened  confusedly 
on  the  floor.  "  I  must  rally  you,  my  friend,"  observed  tlie 
general.  "  Do  you  perceive  yonder  point,  that  boldly  rises 
from  the  water,  and  suddenly  is  lost  behind  that  hill  which 
obstinately  checks  the  view?"  —  "I  do,"  rephed  the  ab- 
sent-minded listener,  engaged  apparently  in  something  else 
than  the  subject  of  inquiry.  "TAerg,"  continued  the  hero, 
"my  enemy  lies  encamped;  and,  were  it  not  for  a  slight 
mist,  I  could  almost  fancy  that  I  perceive  his  cavalry  mov- 
ing. But  hark  !  that  cannon  !  Do  you  not  think  it  pro- 
ceeds from  the  headquarters  of  the  enemy  ?  " 

12.  While  pointing  out  to  his  friend  the  profile  of  the 
country,  the  face  of  the  latter  was  often  turned  the  op* 
posite  way,  seemingly  engrossed  in  another  object  imme- 
diately behind  the  house.  He  w^as  not  mistaken :  it  was 
a  troop,  seemingly,  of  British  horse,  that  were  descending 
a  distant  hill,  winding  through  a  labyrinth  of  numerous 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  189 

projections  and  trees,  until  they  were  seen  galloping 
through  the  valley  below ;  and  then  again  they  were  hid- 
den by  a  field  of  forest,  that  swelled  along  the  bosom  of 
the  landscape.  "  Would  it  not  be  strange,"  observed  the 
general,  apparently  unconscious  of  the  movements  behind 
him,  *'  that,  after  all  my  toils,  America  should  forfeit  her 
liberty?" 

13.  "  Heaven  forbid ! "  said  his  friend,  becoming  less 
reserved,  and  entering  more  warmly  into  the  feelings  of 
the  other.  "  But,"  resumed  Washington,  ''  I  have  heard 
of  treachery  in  the  heart  of  one's  own  camp ;  and  doubt- 
less you  know  that  it  is  possible  '  to  be  wounded  even  in 
the  house  of  one's  friend.'  "  —  "  Sir,"  demanded  the  down- 
cast host,  unable  to  meet  the  searching  glance  of  his  com- 
panion, "  who  can  possibly  intend  so  daring  a  crime  ?  "  — 
"  I  only  meant,"  replied  Washington,  "  that  treachery  is 
the  most  hideous  of  crimes ;  for,  Judas-like,  it  will  even 
sell  its  Lord  for  money!"  —  "Very  time,  general,"  re- 
sponded the  anxious  host,  as  he  gazed  upon  a  troop  of 
British  horse  winding  round  the  hill,  and  riding  with  post- 
haste toward  the  hospitable  mansion. 

14.  "  Is  it  two  o'clock  yet  ?  "  demanded  Washington : 
"  for  I  have  an  engagement  this  afternoon  at  the  army ;  and 
I  regret  that  my  visit  must,  therefore,  be  shorter  than  in- 
tended." — ''  It  lacks  a  full  quarter  yet,"  said  his  friend, 
seeming  doubtful  of  his  watch,  from  the  arrival  of  the 
horsemen.  "  But  bless  me,  sir !  what  cavalry  are  those 
that  are  so  rapidly  approaching  the  house  ? "  asked  hia 
friend.  "  Oh  !  they  may  possibly  be  a  party  of  British 
light  horse,"  returned  the  general  coolly,  ''  which  mean 
no  harm ;  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  they  have  been  sent  for 
the  purpose  of  protecting  mef'' 

15.  As  he  said  this,  the  captain  of  the  troop  was  seen 


190  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

dismounting  from  his  horse  ;  and  his  example  was  followed 
by  the  rest  of  the  party.  "  General ! "  returned  the  other, 
walking  to  him  very  familiarly,  and  tapping  him  on  the 
shoulder,  " general,  you  are  my  prisoner ! "  —  "I  believe 
not,"  said  Washington,  looking  calmly  at  the  men  who 
were  approaching  the  steps  ;  ''  but,  friend,"  exclaimed  he, 
slapping  him  in  return  on  the  arm,  "  I  know  that  you  are 
mine !  Here,  officer,  carry  this  treacherous  hypocrite  to 
the  camp,  and  I  will  make  him  an  example  to  the  enemies 
of  America." 

16.  The  British  general  had  secretly  offered  an  im- 
mense sum  to  this  man  to  make  an  appointment  with  the 
hero  at  two  o'clock,  at  which  time  he  was  to  send  a  troop 
of  horse  to  secure  him  in  their  possession.  Suspecting  his 
intentions,  Washington  had  directed  his  own  troop  to  equip 
themselves  as  English  cavalry,  and  arrive  half  an  hour  pre- 
cisely before  the  time  when  he  was  expected. 

17.  They  pursued  their  way  to  the  camp,  triumphing 
at  the  sagacity  of  their  commander,  who  had  so  astonish- 
ingly defeated  the  machinations  of  the  British  general. 
But  the  humanity  of  Washington  prevailed  over  his  sense 
of  justice.  Overcome  by  the  tears  and  prayers  of  the 
family,  he  pardoned  his  treacherous  friend,  on  condition  of 
his  leaving  the  country  forever ;  which  he  accordingly  did, 
and  his  name  sunk  in  oblivion. 


LESSON   LY. 

*  Te  cum''  seh,  a  famous  Indian  warrior,  who  excited  several  of  the  tribes 
to  take  up  the  liatchet  on  the  side  of  the  British,  against  the  Amer- 
icans, was  killed  at  the  memorable  battle  of  the  Thames.  Oct  5, 
1813. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEB.  191 

EXCITING  ADVENTURE   WITH   AN  INDIAN. 


BLACKWOOD'S  MAGAZINE. 


THE  moon  was  shining  gloriously,  when  I  approached  a 
deep  glen,  known  by  the  name  of  Murder  Creek.  It 
had  received  this  fearful  appellation  in  consequence  of  a 
tragical  event  which  occurred  there,  years  ago.  A  party 
of  whites,  consisting  of  about  thirty  persons,  including 
several  women  and  children,  who  were  camping  out  during 
the  night,  were  suddenly  surprised  by  the  Indians,  and  every 
one  of  them  butchered  and  scalped. 

2.  Weary,  cold,  wet,  and  hungry,  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  spread  my  blanket,  kindle  my  fire,  and,  after  cooking  my 
bacon  and  making  my  coffee,  to  sleep  till  dawn  beneath  the 
thick  branches  of  the  lofty  trees  which  overshadowed  me. 
Having  secured  my  horse  by  a  little  fence  of  saplings,  and 
given  him  his  supper  of  corn-leaves,  the  only  substitute 
for  hay,  (a  sufficient  supply  of  which  I  had  carried  behind 
me,  tied  on  his  back,)  I  prepared  my  own  meal. 

3.  After  I  had  finished  my  supper,  and  replenished  my 
fire  with  fuel,  so  laid  on  as  to  prevent  its  burning  away  too 
rapidly,  I  spread  my  blanket,  and  lay  down.  But  there 
was  an  oppressive  stillness  around,  which  kept  me  awake 
for  some  time.  Insensibly,  however,  sleep  began  to  steal 
over  me,  and  I  was  sinking  into  repose,  when  I  heard  a 
rustling  among  the  bushes,  and  the  quick  tread  of  feet.  I 
turned  my  head  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  and  saw  an 
Indian  seated  on  a  blackened  stump,  gazing  steadily  at  me. 
I  neither  spoke  nor  moved  ;  and  he  was  equally  silent  and 
motionless.  I  do  not  think  he  was  aware  that  I  was  awake 
and  looking  at  him. 

4.  He  was  tall,  of  a  robust  make  ;  his  dress  was  elegant 


192  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

and  picturesque,  consisting  of  a  sort  of  loose  gown  of  red 
and  blue  cotton,  Avitli  the  hem  highly  ornamented,  and 
fastened  round  the  waist  by  a  richly-embroidered  belt,  in 
which  were  his  tomahawk,  scalping-knife,  and  powder- 
horn.  Over  his  shoulders  hung  his  quiver,  and  sheaf  of 
arrows ;  on  his  head  he  wore  a  white  cotton  turban,  from 
behind  which  nodded  a  small  plume  of  black  feathers.  In 
his  hand  he  held  a  gun  ;  and  athwart  his  body,  obliquely 
crossing  his  left  shoulder,  and  hanging  below  his  right,  his 
bow  was  slung. 

5.  I  had  full  leisure  to  note  all  these  things ;  for  there 
he  sat,  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  me.  It  was  like  fascina- 
tion. I  could  only  look  at  him  and  breathe  softly,  as  if  I 
feared  to  disturb  the  warrior,  I  closed  my  eyes  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  but,  when  I  opened  them  again,  the  Indian  had 
disappeared.  I  was  now  convinced  I  had  been  mocked 
with  a  waking  dream ;  for  awake  I  zvas,  and  had  been  so 
all  the  time.  I  Avas  convinced,  too,  that,  had  his  feet  been 
shod  with  moccasins  of  tlie  cygnet's  down,  I  must  liave 
lieard  the  tread  as  he  retired,  if  the  form  had  been  real. 

6.  Under  other  circumstances,  an  occurrence  like  this 
would  have  banished  sleep  for  the  rest  of  the  night ;  but, 
in  spite  of  what  I  felt,  the  fatigue  of  my  day's  journey  sat 
too  heavily  upon  me  to  let  me  keep  awake.  In  the  very 
midst  of  unquiet  and  feverish  meditations,  I  fell  asleep. 
How  long  I  continued  in  that  state,  I  can  not  say ;  but  it 
must  have  been  three  or  four  hours ;  for,  when  I  awoke, 
my  night  fire  was  nearly  burned  out,  and  the  moon  was 
vailed  by  black  and  tempestuous  clouds,  which  had  gath- 
ered in  the  sky,  threatening  a  storm.  The  first  object  that 
met  my  eyes,  as  I  looked  around,  was  the  Indian.  He  was 
seated  in  the  same  attitude  as  before ;  but  his  figure  was 
now  only  dimly  and  partially  visible,  from  the  long  flashes 


UNION   FIFTH  READER.  193 

of  red,  dusky  light  thrown  upon  it  at  intervals  by  the 
expiring  embers. 

7.  I  started  up,  grasping  one  of  my  pistols,  which  lay 
by  my  side.  He  arose,  and  slowly  advanced  toward  me. 
I  was  on  my  feet  in  an  instant ;  and,  as  he  came  near,  I 
presented  my  pistol ;  but,  with  one  blow  of  his  tomahawk, 
he  struck  it  from  my  hand  so  violently,  that  the  piece  dis- 
charged itself  as  it  fell  to  the  ground.  I  endeavored  to 
possess  myself  of  the  other,  when  he  sprang  upon  me, 
seized  me  by  the  throat,  and,  with  his  right  hand,  held 
aloft  his  murderous  weapon.  Expecting  the  fatal  blow  to 
fall,  I  made  signs  of  submission,  and,  both  by  my  gestures 
and  looks,  implored  his  mercy. 

8.  He  surveyed  me  for  an  instant  without  speaking,  then 
quitted  his  hold,  and,  stooping  down,  took  up  my  remaining 
pistol,  which  he  discharged  in  the  air.  I  saw,  by  the  quick 
glances  of  his  eyes,  that  he  was  looking  about  to  ascertain 
whether  I  had  any  other  weapon  of  defense ;  and  I  signi- 
fied that  I  had  not.  He  now  lighted  the  pipe  of  his  toma- 
hawk *  by  the  embers,  gave  two  or  three  puffs  himself,  and 
passed  it  to  me  :  I  did  the  same  ;  and,  from  that  moment, 
I  knew  I  was  safe  in  his  hands.  The  symbol  of  peace  and 
hospitality  had  been  reciprocated ;  the  pledge  of  good  faith 
had  been  given,  which  no  Indian  ever  violated. 

9.  Hitherto  not  a  word  had  been  spoken.  I  knew  not 
a  word  of  the  Indian  dialect,  and  did  not  suppose  he  under- 
stood mine.  While  I  was  considering  how  I  should  make 
myself  understood,  or  comprehend  the  intentions  of  my 
mysterious  visitor,  I  was  both  surprised  and  delighted  to 
hear  him  address  me  in  very  good  English. 

*  The  tomahawk  is  sometimes  so   made   as  to  serve  for  a  pipe :   the 
hatchet-head  has  a  little  socket  attached  to  it ;  and  the  handle,  being  bored, 
serves  for  the  stem. 
9 


194  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

"  The  storm-clouds  are  collecting  in  their  strength," 
said  he,  looking  toward  the  sky.  "  Get  ready.  Fol- 
low me." 

"  You  speak  my  language  ! "  I  exclaimed. 

''  You  hear  I  do.     Get  ready,  and  follow." 

"Whither?" 

He  made  no  answer,  but  walked  some  paces  off  in  the 
direction  he  would  go,  and  then  stopped,  as  if  waiting  for 
me.  I  obeyed.  In  a  few  minutes,  my  horse  was  saddled, 
and  I  on  its  back  ready  to  proceed. 

10.  When  he  saw  me  ready  to  follow,  he  immediately 
entered  a  narrow  hunter's  path,  that  led  into  the  thickest 
part  of  the  wood.  It  soon  became  so  dark  that  I  could  not 
see  my  guide,  and  he  turned  back  to  take  the  bridle  of  my 
horse  in  his  hand.  With  an  unerring  and  rapid  step  he 
kept  the  path,  and,  with  the  eyes  of  the  lynx,  he  discerned 
its  course  through  the  intricate  windings  of  the  forest.  He 
did  not  speak  ;  and  I  was  too  much  absorbed  in  conjectures 
as  to  what  might  be  the  issue  of  this  adventure,  to  seek 
frivolous  discourse,  while  I  knew  that  any  attempt  to  antici- 
pate the  issue  by  questions  would  be  futile.  Besides,  all 
fears  for  my  personal  safety  being  allayed,  I  can  hardly 
say  that  I  now  felt  a  wish  to  forego  the  conclusion  of  a 
business  that  had  commenced  so  romantically. 

11.  We  had  proceeded  in  this  manner  about  two  miles, 
when  the  Indian  suddenly  stopped ;  and  the  next  moment 
I  was  startled  by  the  report  of  his  rifle,  which  was  followed 
by  a  loud  howl  or  yell.  Before  I  could  inquire  the  cause 
of  what  I  heard,  I  was  thrown  to.  the  ground  by  the  vio- 
lent rearing  of  my  horse ;  but  I  soon  recovered  my  feet, 
and  was  then  enabled  to  perceive  by  the  faint  glimmering 
of  the  dawn,  which  now  began  to  penetrate  the  dark,  deep 
gloom  of  the  gigantic  trees,  that  the  Indian  was  in  the  act 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEE.  195 

of  discharging  an  arrow  at  a  wolf  of  prodigious  size,  which 
seemed  to  be  on  the  spring  to  seize  its  assailant. 

12.  The  arrow  flew  to  its  mark  with  a  whizzing  sound, 
and  the  bow  sent  forth  a  twang,  which  denoted  tlie  strength 
of  the  arm  that  had  dispatched  it.  It  struck  and  pene- 
trated the  skull  of  the  wolf;  and  the  next  moment  a  tre- 
mendous blow  from  the  tomahawk,  given  as  he  sprang 
toward  the  ferocious  animal,  before  it  could  recover  from 
tlie  stunning  shock  of  the  arrow,  cleft  his  head  completely 
in  twain.  The  whole  of  this  did  not  occupy  more  than  a 
minute ;  with  such  dexterous  rapidity  did  the  Indian  first 
discharge  his  gun,  then  unsling  his  bow,  and  follow  up  its 
use  by  the  certain  execution  of  the  tomahawk. 

13.  The  Indian  reloaded  his  gun,  to  be  ready,  if  neces- 
sary, for  another  enterprise  of  the  same  kind ;  and  we 
resumed  our  journey  in  silence.  Having  proceeded,  as 
nearly  as  I  could  judge,  from  three  to  four  miles  farther, 
we  at  length  came  to  a  small  cabin,  or  wigwam,  erected  by 
the  side  of  the  path.  It  was  of  the  simplest  construction, 
consisting  merely  of  a  few  saplings  stuck  into  the  ground, 
and  covered  on  the  top  and  sides  with  the  bark  of  the 
cedar-tree.  Round  the  cabin  there  was  about  half  an  acre 
of  ground  cleared,  which  was  planted  with  Indian  corn. 
Here  we  stopped  ;  for  this  was  tlie  abode  of  my  guide. 

14.  I  dismounted,  fastened  my  horse  to  a  tree,  and  fol- 
lowed the  Indian  into  the  hut,  whose  only  furniture  seemed 
to  be  a  bed  of  buffalo  and  wild  deer  skins.  I  perceived, 
liowever,  that  the  walls  of  the  hut  were  huno;  round  with 

'ifles,  tomahawks,  scalping-knives,  powder-horns,  bows, 
irrows,  and  deer,  buffalo,  and  bear  skins.  But  I  will  not 
Lttempt  to  describe  what  were  my  feelings  at  the  moment, 
when  I  saw  and  counted,  on  one  side  of  the  cabin,  no  less 
than   fifteen    human    scalps,  denoting,  by  their   size   and 


196  SAKDEES'  UNION  SEEIES. 

appearance,  that  they  had  belonged  to  persons  of  almost 
every  age,  from  the  child  of  three  years  to  the  gray  victim 
of  threescore  and  ten. 

15.  One,  in  particular,  attracted  my  attention,  from  the 
beauty  of  its  long,  glossy  auburn  hair,  which  hung  down 
in  profusion,  and  which  had  evidently  been  severed  from 
the  head  of  some  female,  perhaps  young,  and  lovely,  and 
beloved.  I  could  easily  distinguish,  too,  that  all  of  them 
were  the  scalps  of  white  people,  who  had  been  slain,  I  had 
no  doubt,  by  the  being  in  whose  power,  utterly  helpless 
and  alone,  I  then  was.  My  heart  grew  faint  and  sick  at 
the  grisly  array,  and  I  turned  from  it,  but  with  a  resolution 
to  betray  as  little  as  I  possibly  could,  by  my  manner,  the 
emotions  it  had  excited. 

16.  "^  Sit,"  exclaimed  the  Indian,  pointing  to  the  bed  of 
buffalo  and  wild  deer  skins  in  one  corner  of  the  cabin.  I 
did  so ;  while  he,  with  the  same  stern  silence  which  he  had 
all  along  maintained,  spread  before  me  various  preparations 
of  Indian  corn,  wild  venison,  and  not  an  unpalatable  dish, 
made  of  the  flour  of  Indian  corn,  gathered  while  green, 
mixed  with  honey  and  Avater.  He  seated  himself  by  my 
side,  and  partook  of  the  meal.  I,  too,  ate,  and  with  a 
relish,  after  my  morning's  ride,  in  spite  of  many  uneasy 
reflections,  which  I  could  not  repress. 

17.  "  You  are  a  white  man,  —  I  found  you  sleeping, — 
jrou  were  armed,  —  I  made  you  defenseless,  and  then  I 
pflered  you  the  pipe  of  peace,  A  white  man  found  my 
FATHER  defenseless  and  asleep,  and  shot  him  as  he  slept. 
Four  snows  passed,  and  I  returned  one  evening  from  hunt- 
ing, when  I  found  my  cabin  burned  down.  My  mother 
alone  sat  weeping  and  lamenting  among  the  ruins.  I  could 
not  separate  the  bones  of  my  children  and  my  wife  from 
the  common  heap  of  blackened  ashes  which  marked  the 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADEK.  197 

spot  where  my  home  had  stood  when  I  went  forth  in  tha 
morning.  I  did  not  weep  ;  but  I  comforted  my  mother  all 
that  night ;  and,  when  the  sun  arose,  I  said,  — '  Let  us  to- 
the  wilderness.  We  are  now  the  last  of  our  race.  We 
are  alone,  and  the  desert  offers  its  solitude  for  such.' 

18.  "  I  left  for  the  lake  of  a  Thousand  Islands,  carry^ 
ing  with  me  only  a  handful  of  the  ashes  with  which  was 
mingled  the  dust  of  my  children  and  my  wife.  In  my 
progress  hither,  I  visited  the  great  warrior  Tecumseh.* 
I  joined  him.  I  was  his  companion.  I  sat  with  him  in 
the  assembly  of  the  great  council,  when,  by  the  power  of 
his  talk,  he  obtained  a  solemn  declaration  that  they  would 
take  up  the  hatchet  at  his  call.  And  they  did;  and  I 
fought  by  his  side.  When  the  warrior  perished,  the  hope 
perished  with  him  of  gathering  the  Indian  nations  in  some 
spot  where  the  white  people  could  not  follow,  and  where 
we  might  live  as  our  fathers  had  done. 

19.  "  Tecumseh  fell.  I  left  my  brethren,  and  I  built 
my  cabin  in  the  woods.  It  was  in  the  season  of  the 'green 
corn,  when  the  thank-offering  is  made  to  the  Great  Spirit, 
that  a  white  man  came  to  my  door.  He  had  lost  his  path, 
and  the  sun  was  going  down.  My  mother  shook  ;  for  the 
fear  of  death  was  upon  her.  She  spoke  to  me.  Her  words 
were  like  the  hurricane  that  sweeps  through  the  forest,  and 
opens  for  itself  a  way  among  the  hills.  The  stranger  was 
tlio  same  that  had  found  my  father  defenseless  and  asleep, 
and  who  shot  him  as  he  slept.  Come  with  me,  and  learn 
the  rest." 

20.  The  Indian  arose,  went  forth,  and  entered  the  for^ 
est ;  I  followed,  utterly  incapable  of  saying  a  word.  There 
Avas  something  so  strange  and  overpowering  in  what  I  had 
seen  and  heard,  —  so  obscure  and  exciting  in  what  I  might 
still  have  to  see  and  hear,  —  that  I  could  only  meditate 


198  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

fearfully  and  silently  upon  the  whole.  The  course  he 
now  took  was  indicated  by  no  path,  but  lay  through  thick 
underwood,  and  amono;  tano-led  bushes. 

21.  At  the  distance  of  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  cabin,  I  observed  a  small  stage,  constructed  between 
four  trees  standing  near  each  other,  and  not  more  than 
four  or  five  feet  from  the  ground.  On  this  stage  I  saw  a 
human  figure  extended,  which,  as  I  afterwards  discovered, 
was  the  body  of  the  Indian's  mother.  By  her  side  was  a 
red  earthen  vessel  or  pitcher,  containing  the  bones  of  his 
fiither,  and  that  "  handful  of  ashes  "  which  he  had  brought 
with  him  from  the  shores  of  Lake  Ontario,  under  the 
impulse  of  a  sentiment  so  well  known  to  exist  among 
the  Indian  tribes,  —  tlie  desire  of  mingling  their  own  dust, 
in  death,  with  that  of  their  fathers  arid  their  kindred.  I 
noticed,  however,  that  my  guide  passed  this  simple,  sylvan 
sepulcher,  without  once  turning  his  eyes  toward  it. 

22.  We  continued  our  progress  through  the  forest ;  and 
I  soon  began  to  perceive  we  were  ascending  a  rising 
ground,  though  the  dense  foliage  prevented  me  from  dis- 
tinguishing the  hight  or  the  extent  of  the  acclivity.  Pres- 
ently I  heard  the  loud  din  and  roar  of  waters  ;  and  we  had 
proceeded  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  whose  increasing 
noise  indicated  our  gradual  approximation  to  it,  for  rather 
more  than  half  a  mile,  when  the  Indian  stopped,  and  I 
found  myself  on  the  brink  of  a  tremendous  whirlpool.  I 
looked  down  from  a  hight  of  nearly  two  hundred  feet  into 
the  deep  ravine  below,  through  which  the  vexed  stream 
whirled  •till  it  escaped  through  another  chasm,  and  plunged 
into  the  recesses  of  the  wood. 

23.  It  was  an  awful  moment!  The  profound  gloom  of 
the  place  ;  the  uproar  of  the  eddying  vortex  beneath  ;  the 
dark  and  rugged  abyss  which  yawned  before  me,  where 


UNION   FIFTH  READER.  199 

huge  trunks  of  trees  might  be  seen,  tossing  and  writhing 
about  hke  things  of  Hfe,  tormented  by  the  angry  spirit  of 
the  waters ;  the  unknown  purpose  of  the  being  who  had 
brouglit  me  hither,  and  who  stood  by  my  side  in  sullen 
silence,  prophetic,  to  my  mind,  of  a  thousand  horrible 
imaginings,  —  formed,  altogether,  a  combination  of  circum- 
stances that  might  have  summoned  fear  into  a  bolder  heart 
than  mine,  at  that  instant. 

24.  At  length  the  Indian  spoke  :  — 

"  Into  this  gulf  I  plunged  the  murderer  of  my  father." 
As  he  uttered  these  words,  he  seized  me  firmly  with  his 
sinewy  arm.  We  were  so  near  the  edge  of  the  precipice, 
and  his  manner  was  so  energetic,  I  might  almost  say  con- 
vulsed, from  the  recollection  of  his  consummating  act  of 
revenge,  that  I  felt  no  small  alarm  lest  an  accidental  move- 
ment might  precipitate  us  botli  into  the  frightful  chasm, 
independently  of  a  very  uncomfortable  misgiving  as  to 
what  his  real  intentions  mio;ht  be  while  holdino:  me  so 
firmly. 

25.  Then,  fixing  his  eyes  steadfastly  upon  me,  he  said, 
—  "I  tracked  you,  last  night,  from  the  going-down  of  the 
sun.  Twice  my  gun  was  leveled ;  twice  I  drew  my  ar- 
row's head  to  its  point ;  once  my  hatchet  glittered  in  the 
moon.  But  my  arm  failed  me,  and  there  was  a  sadness 
over  my  spirits.  I  watched  you  as  you  slept.  Not  even 
the  thought,  that  so  my  father  slept,  could  make  me  strike. 
I  left  you,  and  in  the  deep  forest  cast  myself  to  the  earth, 
to  ask  the  Great  Spirit  what  he  would  have  me  do,  if  it 
was  not  permitted  that  I  should  shed  your  blood.  A  voice 
in  the  air  seemed  to  say  to  me,  — '  Let  him  return.'  " 

The  Indian  then  released  me  from  his  grasp,  conducted 
me  back  to  his  cabin,  furnished  me  with  food  for  my  jour- 
ney, and  bade  me  depart. 


200  SANDEES'  UNION  SERIES. 

LESSON   LYI. 
CHOICE     EXTRACTS. 


DECAY  OF  THE  AMERICAN  INDIANS. 

CHARLES    SPRAGUE. 

AS  a  race,  they  have  withered  from  the  land.  Their 
arrows  are  broken,  their  springs  are  dried  up,  their 
cabins  are  in  the  dust.  Their  council-fire  has  long  since 
gone  out  on  the  shore,  and  their  war-cry  is  fast  dying  away 
to  the  untrodden  West.  Slowly  and  sadly  they  climb  the 
distant  mountains,  and  read  their  doom  in  the  settino;  sun. 
They  are  shrinking  before  the  mighty  tide  which  is  press- 
ing them  away  ;  they  must  soon  hear  the  roar  of  the  last 
wave,  which  will  settle  over  them  forever.  Ages  hence, 
the  inquisitive  white  man,  as  he  stands  by  some  growing 
city,  will  ponder  on  the  structure  of  their  disturbed 
remains,  and  wonder  to  what  manner  of  person  they  be- 
longed. They  will  live  only  in  the  songs  and  chronicles  of 
their  exterminators.  Let  these  be  faithful  to  their  rude 
virtues  as  men,  and  pay  due  tribute  to  their  unhappy  fate 
as  a  people. 

IL 

LAMENT  OF  AN  INDIAN  CHIEF. 

I  WILL  go  to  my  tent,  and  lie  down  in  despair ; 
I  will  paint  me  with  black,  and  will  sever  my  hair ; 
I  will  sit  on  the  shore,  where  the  hurricane  blows, 
And  reveal  to  the  god  of  the  tempest  my  woes ; 
I  will  weep  for  a  season  on  bitterness  fed. 
For  my  kindred  are  gone  to  the  hills  of  the  dead ; 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  201 

But  tliey  died  not  by  hunger,  or  lingering  decay,  — 
The  steel  of  the  white  man  hath  swept  them  away  : 
My  wife,  and  my  children,  —  oh,  spare  me  the  tale  ! — ' 
For  who  is  there  left  that  is  kin  to  Geehale  ! 

III. 
EFFECTS   OF   OUR  DEEDS. 

1.  The  common  and  popular  notion  is,  that  death  is  the 
end  of  man,  as  far  as  this  world  is  concerned ;  that  the 
grave  which  covers  his  fonii,  covers  and  keeps  within  its 
chambers  all  his  influence ;  and  that  the  instant  he  has 
ceased  to  breathe,  that  instant  the  man  has  ceased  to  act. 
It  is  not  so ;  it  is  a  popular  mistake.  We  die,  but  leave 
an  influence  behind  us  that  survives  ;  the  echoes  of  our 
words  are  still  repeated  and  reflected  along  the  ages. 

2.  A  man  has  two  immortalities :  one  he  leaves  behind 
him,  and  it  Avalks  the  earth,  and  still  represents  him ; 
another  he  carries  with  him  to  that  lofty  sphere,  the  pres- 
ence and  glory  of.  God.  "  Every  man  is  a  missionary,  now 
and  forever,  for  good  or  evil,  whether  he  intends  it  or  not. 
He  may  be  a  blot,  racjiating  his  dark  influence  outward,  to 
the  very  circumference  of  society ;  or  he  may  be  a  bless- 
ing, spreading  benedictions  over  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  world ;  but  a  blank  he  can  not  be.  The  seed  sown 
in  life  springs  up  m  harvests  of  blessings,  or  harvests  of 

IV. 

MAN'S  MORTALITY. 

S.  WASTELL. 

1.  Like  as  the  damask  rose  you  see, 
Or  as  the  blossom  on  the  tree. 
Or  like  the  dainty  flower  of  May, 


202  SANDEHS'  UNION  SERIES. 

Or  like  the  morning  to  the  day, 
Or  Hke  the  sun,  or  hke  the  shade, 
Or  hke  the  gourd  which  Jonas  had,  — 
E'en  such  is  man,  whose  thread  is  spun, 
Drawn  out,  and  cut,  and  so  is  done. 
The  rose 'withers,  the  blossom  blasteth. 
The  flower  fades,  the  morning  hasteth, 
The  sun  sets,  the  shadow  flies. 
The  gourd  consumes  ;  and  man  —  he  dies. 

2    Like  to  the  grass  that's  newly  sprung, 
Or  like  a  tale  that's  new  begun, 
Or  like  the  bird  that's  here  to-day, 
Or  like  the  pearled  dew  of  May, 
Or  like  an  hour,  or  like  a  span, 
Or  like  the  sino-ino;  of  a  swan,  — 
E'en  such  is  man,  who  lives  by  breath, 
Is  here,  now  there,  in  life  and  death. 
The  grass  withers,  the  tale  is  ended, 
The  bird  is  flown,  the  dew's  ascended, 
The  hour  is  short,  the  span  not  long, 
The  swan's  near  death,  —  man's  life  is  done. 

V. 

SAVING  FOR  OLD  AGE. 

1.  No  one  denies  that  it  is  wise  to  make  a  provision  for 
old  age ;  but  we  are  not  all  agreed  as  to  the  land  of  pro- 
vision it  is  best  to  lay  up.  Certainly,  we  shall  want  money; 
for  a  destitute  old  man  is,  indeed,  a  pitiful  sight.  There- 
fore,  save  money^  by  all  means.  But  an  old  man  needs 
just  that  particular  kind  of  strength  which  young  men  are 
most  apt  to  waste.     Many  a  foolish  young'  man  will  throw 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADEE.  203 

away,  on  a  holiday,  a  certain  amount  of  nervous  energy, 
wliicli  he  will  never  feel  the  want  of  till  he  is  seventy ; 
and  then^  how  much  he  will  need  it !  It  is  curious,  but 
true,  that  a  bottle  of  champagne,  at  twenty,  may  intensify 
the  rheumatism  of  threescore.  It  is  a  fact,  that  overtask- 
ing the  eyes  at  fourteen  m?ay  necessitate  the  aid  of  specta- 
cles at  forty,  instead  of  eighty. 

2.  We  advise  our  young  readers  to  be  saving  of  health 
for  their  old  age  ;  for  the  maxim  holds  good  with  regard  to 
health  as  to  money,  ''  Waste  not,  want  not."  It  is  the 
greatest  mistake  to  suppose  that  any  violation  of  the  laws 
of  health  can  escape  its  penalty.  Nature  forgives  no  sin, 
no  error.  She  lets  off  the  offender  for  fifty  years  some- 
times, but  she  catches  him  at  last,  and  inflicts  the  punish- 
ment just  when^  where^  and  how  he  feels  it  most.  Save  up 
for  old  age  ;  but  save  knowledge  ;  save  the  recollection  of 
good  deeds  and  innocent  pleasure ;  save  pure  thoughts ; 
save  friends ;  save  rich  stores  of  that  kind  of  wealth 
which  time  can  not  diminish,  nor  death  take  away. 


VI. 

BE  FIRM. 

MRS.  S.  C.  MAYO. 

Be  firm  !  whatever  tempts  thy  soul 
To  loiter  ere  it  reach  its  goal. 
Whatever  siren  voice  would  draw 
Thy  heart  from  duty  and  its  law. 
Oh,  that  distrust !     Go  bravely  on. 
And,  till  the  victor-crown  be  won, 
Be  firm  ! 


204  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

Firm  when  thy  conscience  is  assailed, 
Firm  when  the  star  of  hope  is  vailed, 
Firm  in  defying  wrong  and  sin, 
Firm  in  life's  conflict,  toil,  and  din, 
Firm  in  the  path  by  martyrs  trod,  — 
And  oh,  in  love 'to  man  and  God 
Be  firm  ! 

VIL 
THE  YOUNG  VOYAGER. 

ALBERT  BARNES. 

1.  A  YOUNG  man,  just  entering  on  life,  embarks  on  an 
unknown  and  perilous  voyage.  If  the  interest  of  the  fact 
itself  will  not  suffer  by  the  comparison,  his  condition  may 
be  likened  to  that  -of  a  ship,  that  has  never  yet  tried  the 
waves  and  storms,  as  it  first  leaves  the  port.  This  world, 
so  full  of  beautiful  things,  furnishes  few  objects  so  lovely 
as  such  a  vessel,  when,  with  her  sails  all  spread,  and  with 
a/propitious  breeze,  she  sails  out  of  the  harbor. 

2.  But  who  can  tell  what  that  vessel  is  to  encounter ; 
into  what  unknown  seas  she  may  yet  be  drifted  ;  between 
what  masses  of  ice  she  may  be  crushed ;  on  what  hidden 
rocks  she  may  impinge  ;  what  storms  may  whistle  through 
her  shrouds,  and  carry  away  her  tall  masts ;  or  on  what 
coasts  her  broken  timbers  may  be  strewed  ?  Now,  as  the 
waves  gently  tap  her  sides,  nothing  can  be  more  beautiful, 
or  more  safe  ;  but  storms  arise  on  that  ocean  Avhich  now 
looks  so  calm,  and  in  those  storms  her  beautifully-modeled 
fonn,  her  timbers  framed  together  to  defy  the  tempest,  her 
ropes  and  her  canvas,  will  avail  nothing ;  and,  if  she  is 
saved,  none  but  He  can  do  it  who  ''  rides  on  the  whirl- 
wind and  directs  the  storm." 


insriON  FIFTH  EEADEE.  205 

VIII. 
VOYAGE   OF   LIFR 

HENRY  WARE,   JUN. 

1.  Life  is  a  sea,  as  fathomless, 

As  wide,  as  terrible,  and  yet  sometimes 
As  calm  and  beautiful.     The  light  of  Heaven 
Smiles  on  it,  and  'tis  decked  with  every  hue 
Of  glory  and  of  joy.     Anon,  dark  clouds 
Arise,  contending  winds  of  fate  go  forth, 
And  Hope  sits  weeping  o'er  a  general  wreck. 
And  thou  must  sail  upon  this  sea,  a  long, 
Eventful  voyage.     The  wise  may  suffer  wreck, 
The  foolish  7nu8t, 

2,  O  !  then  be  early  Avise  ! 
Learn  from  the  mariner  his  skillful  art 

To  ride  upon  the  waves,  and  catch  the  breeze, 
And  dare  the  threatening  storm,  and  trace  a  path 
'Mid  countless  dangers,  to  the  destined  port, 
Unerringly  secure.     O  !  learn  fi*om  him 
To  station  quick-eyed  Prudence  at  the  helm, 
To  guard  thy  sail  from  Passion's  sudden  blasts, 
And  make  Religion  thy  magnetic  guide. 
Which,  though  it  trembles  as  it  lowly  lies, 
Points  to  the  light  that  changes  not,  —  in  Heaven. 

IX. 

THE  BEAUTIES   OF  NATURE. 
>rooniE. 

1.  Pause  for  a  while,  ye  travelers  on  the  earth,  to  con- 
template the  universe  in  which  you  dwell,  and  tlie  glory 
of  Him  who  created  it.     What  a  scene  of  wonders  is  liere 


206  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

presented  to  your  view  I  If  beheld  with  a  religious  eye, 
what  a  temple  for  the  worship  of  the  Almighty !  Tho 
earth  is  spread  out  before  you,  reposing  amid  the  desola- 
tion of  winter,  or  clad  in  the  verdure  of  the  spring,  —  smil- 
ing in  the  beauty  of  summer,  or  loaded  with  autumnal 
fruit,  —  opening,  to  an  endless  variety  of  beings,  the  treas- 
ures of  their  Maker's  goodness,  and  ministering  subsist- 
ence  and  comfort  to  every  creature  that  lives. 

2.  The  heavens,  also,  declare  the  glory  of  the  Lord. 
The  Sun  Cometh  forth  from  his  chambers  to  scatter  the 
shades  of  night,  inviting  you  to  the  renewal  of  your  labors, 
adorning  the  face  of  Nature,  and,  as  he  advances  to  his 
meridian  brightness,  cherishing  every  herb  and  flower  that 
springe th  from  the  bosom  of  the  earth.  Nor,  when  he  re- 
tires again  from  your  view,  doth  he  leave  the  Creator 
without  a  witness.  He  only  hides  his  own  splendor  for  a 
while  to  disclose  to  you  a  more  glorious  scene,  —  to  show 
you  the  immensity  of  space  filled  with  worlds  unnumbered, 
that  your  imaginations  may  wander,  without  a  limit,  in  the 
vast  creation  of  God. 

X. 

CHEER  UP. 

C)  1.  Cheer  up  !  my  friend,  cheer  up,  I  say  ; 
Give  not  thy  heart  to  gloom,  to  sorrow ; 
Though  clouds  enshroud  thy  path  to-day, 
The  sun  will  shine  again  to-morrow. 

2,  Oh  !  look  not  with  desponding  sigh 
Upon  these  little  trifling  troubles ; 
Cheer  up  !  you'll  see  them  by  and  by 
.  Just  as  they  are,  —  like  empty  bubbles. 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  207 

8,  So  come,  cheer  up  I  my  friend,  cheer  up  ! 
This  is  a  world  of  love  and  beauty ; 
And  you  may  quaff  its  sweetest  cup 
If  you  but  bravely  do  your  duty. 

4.  Put  gloom  and  sadness  far  away, 

And,  smiling,  bid  good-by  to  sorrow  ; 
The  clouds  that  shroud  your  path  to-day 
Will  let  the  sunhght  in  to-morrow. 


LESSON   LYII. 

*  Fox,  Charles  James,  a  distinguished  statesman  and  orator,  was  born  in 

London,  England,  1749;  and  died  1806.  So  early  were  his  talents 
developed,  that  he  was  elected  a  member  of  Parliament  before  he  was 
twenty  years  of  age.  See  Sanders'  Sixth  Reader,  p.  487. 
'Jones,  Sin  William,  whose  researches  in  Oriental  literature,  and  whose 
surpassing  genius  as  a  translator  from  the  Eastern  languages,  have 
rendered  his  name  illustrious  throughout  the  world,  was  born  in  Lon- 
don, 1746;  and  died  1794.  He  was  also  eminent  as  a  mathematician 
and  a  jurist. 

*  Her'  cu  les,  a  hero  of  antiquity,  flibled  to  have  been  the  son  of  Jupiter 

and  Alcmena,  and  celebrated  for  his  great  strength. 

*  De  mos'  the  NE8,  the  greatest  of  Grecian  orators,  was  born  382  B.C. ;  and 

died  322  B.C.  Philip,  King  of  Macedon,  having  betrayed  his  hostility 
to  the  power  of  Athens,  and  to  the  liberties  of  the  other  Grecian 
States,  it  was  to  arouse  his  countrymen  ngainst  the  crafty  invader  that 
Demosthenes  pronounced  his  Philippics,  a  series  of  the  most  splendid 
and  spirited  orations.  ^ 

'  Sixer'  i  dan,  Richard  Brinsley,  an  English  dramatist  and  politician, 
was  born  in  Dublin,  1751  ;  and  died  1816.  He  was  elected  a  member 
of  Parliament,  and  in  1787  supported  the  charge  against  Warren 
Hastings,  in  a  speech  which  is  regarded  as  one  of  the  very  best  of  his 
life. 

''Brougham,  Henry,  late  lord-chancellor  of  England,  was  born  in  Edin- 
burgh in  1778.  He  was  one  of  the  founders  of  "  The  Edinburgh  Re- 
view," and  among  its  ablest  contributors ;  and  is  regarded  as  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  of  the  public  men  in  Englstnd. 


208  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

'  Ames,  Fisher,  an  American  statesman  and  orator,  was  born  in  Dedham, 
Mass.,  April  9,  1756;  and  died  July  4,  1808. 

^Hen'ry,  Patrick,  an  American  statesman  and  orator,  was  born  in  Yir 
ginia,  1736 ;  and  died  1799.  His  early  opportunities  of  education  werft 
limited ;  but  he  rose  above  all  impediments  to  great  distinction,  and 
became  one  of  the  most  eloquent  men  of  any  age.  He  was  a  strenu. 
ous  advocate  for  American  independence. 

®  White'  field,  George,  one  of  the  most  eloquent,  devoted,  and  success- 
ful ministers  of  Christ,  since  the  days  of  the  apostles,  was  born  ic 
Gloucester,  England,  1714.  He  stated  in  his  memorandum-book,  that, 
"  during  a  period  embracing  thirty-four  years,  he  preached  upwards  of 
eighteen  thousand  sermons,  crossed  the  Atlantic  seven  times,  and  trav 
eled  thousands  of  miles  both  in  Britain  and  America." 

*®  Hume,  David,  author  of  a  celebrated  history  of  England,  was  born  at 
Edinburgh,  1711 ;  and  died  1776. 

EARNESTNESS. 

ANON. 

**  Life  is  not  measured  by  the  time  we  live." 

THE  amount  of  work  done,  or  good  accomplished,  by  an 
individual,  is  not  measured  by  the  number  of  days,  or 
months,  or  years,  he  may  have  lived.  Some  men  accom- 
plish much  in  a  short  time.  They  are  burning  and  shining 
lights.  There  is  a  point  and  power  in  all  they  think,  'and. 
say,  and  do.  They  may  not  have  lived  many  years  ;  they 
may  have  passed  away  quickly  from  the  earth ;  but  they 
have  finished  their  work.  They  have  left  "  footprints  on 
the  sands  of  time."  Their  bodies  sleep  in  peace,  but  their 
names  live  evermore.  They  have  lived  long,  because  they 
have  lived  to  some  good  purpose ;  they  have  lived  long, 
because  they  have  accomplished  the  true  ends  of  life  by 
living  wisely  and  well ;  and 

"  That  life  is  long  which  answers  life's  great  end." 

2.  The  essential  element  of  success  in  every  great  un- 
dertaking, is  expressed  by  a  single  word ;  and  that  word  is 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  209 

EARNESTNESS.  It  Contains  the  true  secret  of  nearly  all  the 
wonderful  successes  which  have  astonished  the  world.  It 
solves  the  problem  of  nearly  all  the  heroes  whose  achieve- 
ments are  recorded  on  the  pages  of  history,  and  whose 
names  will  live  forever  in  the  remembrance  of  mankind. 
In  all  past  time,  how  few  individuals  do  we  find,  who  have 
risen  to  any  considerable  distinction,  and  gained  an  endur- 
ing reputation,  and  become  truly  great,  and  have  left  their 
mark  upon  the  age  in  which  they  lived,  who  were  not 

EARNEST   MEN. 

3.  One  of  the  most  prolific  of  living  writers,  whose 
books  astonish  us  by  the  vast  research  and  varied  learning 
which  they  display,  was  once  asked  how,  in  the  midst  of 
the  duties  of  a  laborious  profession,  he  had  been  able  to 
accomplish  so  much.  He  rephed,  —  "  By  being  a  whole 
man  to  one  thing  at  a  time,"  —  in  other  words,  by  being 
an  earnest  man.  The  celebrated  Charles  James  Fox^ 
once  said,  that  "  no  man  ever  went  successfully  through 
with  any  great  enterprise,  whose  earnestness  did  not 
amount  almost  to  enthusiasm."  There  are  so  many  ob- 
stacles in  the  way  of  any  great  achievement,  that  none 
but  the  earnest  and  enthusiastic  will  persevere,  and  hold 
on  to  its  final  accomplishment.  The  irresolute,  the  timid, 
the  phlegmatic,  after  a  few  faint  efforts,  will  give  up  in 
despair. 

4.  It  would  be  easy  to  furnish  examples  of  the  practical 
power  of  earnestness  almost  indefinitely.  The  world  is 
full  of  them.  Look  at  Christopher  Columbus.  Consider 
the  disheartening  difficulties  and  vexatious  delays  he  had 
to  encounter,  —  the  doubts  of  the  skeptical,  the  sneers  of 
the  learned,  the  cavils  of  the  cautious,  and  the  opposition, 
or  at  least  the  indifference,  of  nearly  all.  And  then  the 
dangers  of  an  untried,  unexplored  ocean.     Is  it  by  any 

14 


210  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

means  probable  lie  would  have  persevered,  had  he  not 
possessed  that  earnest  enthusiasm,  which  was  character- 
istic of  the  great  discoverer'  ? 

5.  What  mind  can  conceive  or  tongue  can  tell  the  great 
results  which  have  followed,  and  will  continue  to  follow  in 
all  coming  time,  from  what  this  single  ir  dividual  accom- 
plished ?  A  new  continent  has  been  disc  overed ;  nations 
planted,  whose  wealth  and  power  already  begin  to  eclipse 
those  of  the  Old  World,  and  whose  emj)ires  stretch  far 
away  beneath  the  setting  sun.  Instituti  )ns  of  learning, 
liberty,  and  religion,  have  been  establishe  i  on  the  broad 
basis  of  equal  rights  to  all.  It  is  tiTie,  America  might 
have  been  discovered  by  what  we  call  som  3  fortunate  acci- 
dent. But,  in  all  probability,  it  would  have  remained 
unknown  for  centuries,  had  not  some  earnest  man^  like 
Columbus,  arisen,  whose  adventurous  spirit  would  be 
roused,  rather  than  repressed,  by  difficulty  and  danger. 

6.  John  Howard,  the  philanthropist,  is  another  remarka- 
ble illustration  of  the  power  of  intense  earnestness  joined 
with  great  decision  of  character.  '-'•  He  spent  his  whole 
life  in  taking  the  gauge  of  human  misery,"  —  in  visiting 
prisons  and  penitentiaries,  and  the  abodes  of  poverty  and 
wretchedness.  He  sought  to  alleviate  human  suffering 
wherever  he  found  it,  —  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the 
degraded,  the  distressed,  and  the  unfortunate,  by  all  the 
means  in  his  power.  In  the  prosecution  of  his  object,  diffi- 
culties did  not  discourage,  nor  did  dangers  appall  him.  He 
traveled  repeatedly  on  foot  over  most  of  Europe,  submit- 
ting to  almost  every  hardship  and  privation  ;  and  we  are 
told  that  the  existence  of  the  plague,  even,  did  not  deter 
him  from  visiting  any  place  where  he  thought  suffering 
humanity  could  be  benefited  by  his  presence. 

7.  Sir  William  Jones,^  who  acquired  the  knowledge  of 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  211 

twenty-eight  different  languages,  when  asked  how  his  won- 
derful attainments  in  almost  every  branch  of  learning  had 
been  made,  was  accustomed  to  reply, — "  Only  by  industry 
and  regular  application."  And  New^ton,  whose  scientific 
discoveries  will  ever  continue  to  delight  and  astonish  man- 
kind, ascribed  his  success,  not  to  superior  genius,  but  to 
superior  industry^  —  to  the  habit  and  power  he  had  ac- 
quired of  holding  his  mind  steadily,  and  for  a  long  time,  to 
the  study  of  an  involved  and  difficult  subject.  ''  The  dis- 
covery of  gravitation,  the  grand  secret  of  the  universe, 
was  not  whispered  in  his  ear  by  an  oracle.  It  did  not 
visit  him  in  a  morning  dream.  It  did  not  fall  into  his  idle 
lap,  a  windfall  from  the  clouds.  But  he  reached  it  by  self- 
denying  toil,  —  by  midnight  study,  —  by  the  large  com- 
mand of  accurate  science,  and  by  bending  all  his  powers 
in  one  direction,  and  keeping  them  thus  bent." 

8.  So,  in  every  occupation  of  life  requiring  intellectual, 
or  even  physical  exertion,  earnestness  is  an  essential  ele- 
ment of  success.  Without  it,  a  man  may  have  the  strength 
of  Hercules,^  or  the  mind  of  Newton,  and  yet  accomplish 
nothing.  He  may  live,  and  die,  and  yet  leave  behind  him 
neither  name  nor  memorial.  Was  there  ever  a  man,  of 
any  trade  or  profession,  eminently  successful,  who  did  not 
apply  himself  in  earnest  to  his  business'  ?  Every  poet, 
whose  Muse  has  clothed 

"  Whatever  the  heart  of  man  admires  and  loves 
With  music  and  with  numbers," 

whose  breathinor  thouo;hts  and  winijed  woixls  have  thrilled 
the  world,  from  the  blind  old  bard*  of  Scio  to  the  modern 
Homer,  "  whose  soul  was  like  a  star,  and  dwelt  apart," 
has  been  an  earnest  man.     Every  orator,  whose  burning 

*  Homer.     Seep.  106. 


212  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

eloquence  has  swayed  listening  thousands,  just  as  the  for- 
est is  swayed  by  the  summer's  wind,  has  been  an  earnest 
man, 

9.  Demosthenes^  was  in  earnest  when  he  poured  forth 
his  fervid  Philippics  in  ancient  Athens.  Paul  was  in  ear- 
nest, when,  reasoning  of  righteousness,  temperance,  and  a 
judgment  to  come,  Felix  trembled  before  him.  Sheridan^ 
was  in  earnest  at  the  trial  of  Hastings,  when  all  parties 
were  held  chained  and  spell-bound  by  his  eloquence. 
Brougham^  was  in  earnest,  when,  as  we  are  told,  "he 
thundered  and  lightened  in  the  House  of  Commons,  until 
the  knio;hts  of  the  shire  absolutely  clunor  to  the  benches  for 
support,  the  ministers  cowered  behind  the  speaker's  chair 
for  shelter,  and  the  voting  members  started  from  their 
slumbers  in  the  side  galleries,  as  if  the  last  trumpet  were 
ringing  in  their  ears."  And  so  of  our  own  Ames^  and 
Henry .^  They  were  in  earnest,  Avhen,  seeking  to  arouse 
their  countrymen  to  united  resistance  of  British  oppres- 
sion, they  assured  them  that  they  "  could  almost  hear  the 
clanking  of  their  chains  ;  "  "  that  the  blood  of  their  sons 
should  fatten  their  cornfields,  and  the  war-whoop  of  the 
Indian  should  waken  the  sleep  of  the  cradle."  And 
because  they  were  in  earnest,  their  words  were  words 
of  fire. 

10.  Earnestness  was  the  true  secret  of  Whitefield's^ 
wonderful  eloquence.  He  won  the  admiration  of  the 
skeptical  Hume,^^  not  by  his  logic  or  his  learning,  but  by 
his  fervid,  earnest  eloquence.  David  Garrick,  the  cele- 
brated actor,  was  once  asked,  by  a  clergyman,  Avhy  the 
speaking  of  actors  produced  so  much  greater  effect  than 
that  of  clergymen.  "Because,"  said  Garrick,  "we  utter 
fiction  as  if  it  were  truth,  while  you  utter  truth  as  if  it 
were  fiction  ; "  thus  clearly  implying  that  earnestness  is  the 
very  soul  of  all  effective  eloquence. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  213 


LESSON    LVIII. 

INCENTIVES    TO     CULTURE. 

R.  F.  TROWBRIDGE. 

niHERE  is  no  talent, like  method;  and  no  accomplishment 
_L  that  man  can  possess,  like  perseverance.  They  will 
overcome  every  obstacle ;  and  there  is  no  position  which  a 
young  man  may  not  hope  to  win  or  secnre,  when,  guided 
by  these  principles,  he  sets  out  upon  the  great  highway  of 
life.  In  after  years,  the  manners  and  habits  of  the  man  are 
not  so  readily  adapted  to  any  prescribed  course  to  which 
they  have  been  unaccustomed.  But  in  youth  the  habit  of 
S7/stem,  method,  and  indmtry,  is  as  easily  formed  as  others ; 
and  the  benefits  and  enjoyments  which  result  from  it, 
are  more  than  the  wealth  and  honors  which  they  always 
secure. 

2.  Industry  or  idleness  are  habits,  each  as  easily  acquired 
as  the  other,  but  infinitely  different  in  their  results.  The 
steady  action  of  the  one  is  a  continuous  source  of  gratifica- 
tion and  enjoyment ;  the  painful  solicitudes  and  uncertain- 
ties of  the  other  dwai-f  the  intellect,  and  vitiate  the  heart. 
Either  becomes  habitual  without  effort,  and  the  habit  be- 
comes fixed  ere  we  are  aware  of  its  presence. 

3.  A  man  does  not  know  in  what  path  his  ambition  may 
lead  him,  until  he  has  enlightened  his  mind  by  reading,  by 
thought,  and  observation.  In  our  country,  he  is  taught 
by  custom  and  by  example  to  look  about  him  while  yet  a 
youth,  and  study  the  chances  for  success  as  they  may  arise 
around  him.  He  is  too  liable  to  fall  into  a  listless  habit  of 
waiting  for  some  fortuitous  circumstance  to  occur,  by 
which  he  may  make  sudden  wealth,  or  spring  to  an  envia- 
ble position,  without  the  ordinary  labors  to  secure  them. 


214  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

4.  Men  of  genuine  ambition  never  wait  for  uncertain 
events.  They  commence,  as  all  men  have  to  commence, 
with  the  very  first  steps  of  the  foundation  ;  and  while  others, 
of  perhaps  better  abilities  and  more  fortunate  condition, 
are  nursing  their  morbid  hopes  and  fading  expectations, 
they  build  up  the  basis  of  a  fortune  and  reputation,  to 
which  the  less  energetic  and  useful  may  aspire  in  vain. 
True  men  create  circumstances,  which,  in  turn,  aid  them. 

5.  Frankness,  candor,  and  sincerity,  will  always  win 
respect  and  friendship,  and  will  always  retain  them ;  and 
the  consciousness  of  having  such  a  treasure,  and  of  being 
worthy  of  it,  is  more  than  wealth  and  honors.  A  man 
quickly  finds  when  he  is  unworthy  of  public  respect  or 
private  friendship ;  and  the  leaden  weight  he  carries  ever 
in  his  callous  heart,  can  not  be  lightened  by  any  success  or 
any  gratification  he  can  secure.  But  the  man  of  upright 
character,  and  proper  self-respect,  can  never  meet  with  ad- 
versities which  can  deprive  him  of  that  higher  happiness 
which  rests  in  his  own  breast,  and  which  no  disasters  of 
business,  or  calamities  of  occupation,  or  loss  of  wealth,  can 
ever  reach  or  disturb. 

6.  Education  is  not  confined  to  books  alone.  The  world 
with  its  thousand  interests  and  occupations  is  a  great  school. 
But  the  recorded  experience  and  wisdom  of  others  may  be 
of  the  greatest  aid  and  benefit  to  us.  We  can  look  about 
US  to-day,  and  see  many  who  have  brought  the  light  of 
that  intelligence  which  has  been  the  guiding-star  of  others 
to  bear  upon  their  own  paths,  and  by  its  aid  have  achieved 
an  enviable  position  among  men.  Honor  lies  in  doing  well 
whatever  we  find  to  do ;  and  the  world  estimates  a  man's 
abilities  in  accordance  with  his  success  in  whatever  busi- 
ness or  profession  he  may  engage. 

7.  In  this  great  land  of  ours,  what  opportunities  invite 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  '  215 

the  attention  and  stimulate  the  ambition  of  the  American 
citizen  !  Spreading  out  her  area  of  civilization  and  of  com- 
merce over  the  imperial  dominions  of  this  vast  continent, 
what  fields  of  enterprise  are  constantly  opening,  and  what 
opportunities  for  wealth,  or  honor,  or  fame,  are  continually 
developing  before  him !  What  cities  and  ports  and  avenues 
are  to  be  built,  what  new  Lowells  and  Saratogas  are  to 
arise,  what  Bostons  and  New  Yorks  are  to  spring  from 
the  commerce  of  that  western  shore !  Who  are  to  be  the 
architects  of  this  imperial  undertaking  ?  Whose  minds  are 
to  conceive,  and  whose  hands  are  to  construct,  these  mag- 
nificent fabrics  of  national  and  individual  prosperity  and 
power  ? 

8.  Surely  the  generation  which  is  now  coming  upon  the 
theater  of  action,  has  this  great  mission  to  perform.  To 
them  is  held  out  a  prize  such  as  the  world  has  never  before 
offered,  to  stimulate  the  pride,  patriotism,  and  ambition  of 
any  people.  And  they  will  profit  by  the  opportunity.  To 
those  who  have  prepared  themselves  for  the  duties  and  the 
labors  of  this  eminent  undertaking,  will  fall  the  honors 
and  rewards  of  the  enterprise.  And  to  their  charge  will 
be  intrusted  the  honor  and  integrity  of  that  flag,  which, 
first  waved  along  a  narrow  strip  of  the  wild  Atlantic  coast, 
but  which,  if  we  are  true  to  our  own  interests,  will  bo 
hailed  in  every  land  and  upon  every  sea  as  the  emblem  of 
earth's  noblest  nation. 


LESso:^r  Lix. 

"AND  THEN?" 

An  excellent  effect  will  be  produced  by  having  one  member  of  the  class 
ask  the  question,  "And  Thex  1 "  at  the  close  of  each  stanza,  and  the  same 
member  read  the  closing  stanza  in  a  very  emphatic  manner.  Or  it  may  be 
read  by  the  whole  class  in  concert. 


216  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

1.  A    YOUTH  told  proudly  his  hopes  and  plans, 

iJL      With  his  own  strong  hand  all  his  future  drew. 
To  the  calm  old  man,  earth-tired,  Heaven-bound, 
Who  answered,  from  all  that  his  great  heart  knew, 
Only  these  words,  "And  Then'?"  — 

2,  With  a  steady  foot  and  a  willing  hand, 

I  will  cHmb  to  Earth's  treasure-hold, 
And  claim  my  share  of  the  wealth  she  hoards 
For  her  favored,  —  the  brave  and  the  bold. 
" And  Then'?"  — 

8.  And  then,  w^ith  this  w^and  in  my  happy  hand, 
I'll  gather  her  gems  at  will ; 
I'll  summon  each  draught  of  her  pleasure-fount 
Till  it  fail,  or  my  goblet  I  fill. 
"And  Then'?"  — 

4.  Oh !  then  I'll  try  Fame,  and  I'll  coax  till  I  win 

From  the  noble  old  laurel  a  wreath ; 
This  I'll  cherish  and  keep,  'tis  Earth's  choicest  gift. 
And  its  life-dew  her  balmiest  breath. 
" And  Then'?"  — 

5.  I'll  be  kindly,  and  share  of  my  wealth  and  my  joy ; 

So  I'll  bind  many  souls  to  my  own : 
For  I'd  sooner  be  prince  of  a  dozen  warm  hearts 
Than  a  monarch  of  many  a  throne. 
" And  then'?"  — 

6.  Why,  then  I'll  be  getting  to  staid  middle  age. 

And  the  world  will  be  Eden  no  more  ; 
But  I'll  choose  me  an  Eve,  and  build  me  a  home, 
And  be  found  at  my  own  open  door, 
"And  Then'?"  — 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  211 

7.  Tlien^  —  then  I'll  grow  old  of  a  quaint  old  age, 
In  the  midst  of  my  pleasure  and  peace  ; 
So  muffled  in  treasure,  and  comfort,  and  love, 
That  to  my  ear  Earth's  discord  shall  cease. 
"And  Then'?"  — 

80  I'll  grow  older  and  older  ;  and  then,  I  suppose, 
Life  and  I  will  grow  weary — and  —  why  — 
As  my  fathers  have  done,  as  my  children  must  do. 

So  Z,  in  my  ripeness,  shall die  ! 

"And  Then'?" 

9.  Oh !  then  will  the  vail  of  Death's  portal  be  rent, 
And  unto  each  soul  shall  be  given 
The  awards  of  this  life,  howe'er  it  was  spent,  — 
Undying  regrets,  or  the  joys  of  Heaven ; 
Then,  and  forever  then  I 


LESSOlSr   LX. 
WHAT     IS     LIFE? 

CHARLES  D.  DRAKE. 

AN  Eagle  flew  up  in  his  heavenward  flight. 
Far  out  of  the  reach  of  human  sight. 
And  gazed  on  the  earth  from  the  lordly  hight 

Of  his  sweeping  and  lone  career : 
"And  this  is  Life  !  "  he  exultingly  screams, 
"  To  soar  without  fear  where  the  lightning  gleams. 
And  look  unblenched  on  the  sun's  dazzling  beams. 
As  they  blaze  through  the  upper  sphere." 
10 


218  SANDEKS'   UNION   SEEIES. 

2.  A  Lion  sprang  forth  from  his  bloody  bed, 

And  roared  till  it  seemed  he  would  wake  the  dead  ; 
And  man  and  beast  from  him  wildly  fled, 

As  though  there  were  death  in  the  tone : 
"And  this  is  Life !  "  he  triumpliantly  cried, 
"  To  hold  my  domain  in.  the  forest  wide, 
Imprisoned  by  naught  but  the  ocean's  tide, 

And  the  ice  of  the  frozen  zone." 

8.  "  It  is  Life,''  said  a  Whale,  "  to  swim  the  deep ; 
O'er  hills  submerged  and  abysses  to  sweep. 
Where  the  gods  of  ocean  their  vigils  keep, 

In  the  fathomless  gulfs  below ; 
To  bask  on  the  bosom  of  tropical  seas, 
And  inhale  the  fragrance  of  Ceylon's  breeze, 
Or  sport  where  the  turbulent  waters  freeze, 

In  the  cHmes  of  eternal  snow." 

4.  "  It  is  Life,"  says  a  tireless  Albatross, 

"  To  skim  through  the  air  when  the  dark  waves  toss 
In  the  storm  that  has  swept  the  earth  across. 

And  never  to  wish  for  rest ; 
To  sleep  on  the  breeze  as  it  softly  flies, 
My  perch  in  the  air,  my  shelter  the  skies. 
And  build  my  nest  on  the  billows  that  rise 

And  break  with  a  pearly  crest." 

6.  "  It  is  Life,"  says  a  wild  Gazelle,  "  to  leap 
From  crag  to  crag  of  the  mountainous  steep, 
Where  the  cloud's  icy  tears  in  purity  sleep, 

Like  the  marble  brow  of  death ; 
To  stand  unmoved  on  the  outermost  verge 
Of  the  perilous  hight,  and  watch  the  surge 
Of  the  waters  beneath,  that  onward  urge. 

As  if  sent  by  a  demon's  breath." 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  219 

6.  "  It  is  Life,"  I  hear  a  Butterfly  say, 

"  To  revel  in  blooming  gardens  by  day, 
And  nestle  in  cups  of  flowerets  gay, 

When  the  stars  the  heavens  illume ; 
To  steal  from  the  rose  its  delicate  hue. 
And  sip  from  the  hyacinth  glittering  dew, 
And  catch  from  beds  of  the  violet  blue 

The  breath  of  its  gentle  perfume." 

7.  "  It  is  Life,"  a  majestic  War-horse  neighed, 
"  To  prance  in  the  glare  of  battle  and  blade, 
Where  thousands  in  terrible  death  are  laid, 

And  scent  of  the  streaming  gore  ; 
To  dash,  unappalled,  through  the  fiery  heat, 
And  trample  the  dead  beneath  my  feet, 
'Mid  the  trumpet's  clang,  and  the  drum's  loud  beat. 

And  the  hoarse  artillery's  roar." 

8.  "  It  is  Life,"  said  a  Savage,  with  hideous  yell, 
"  To  roam  unshackled  the  mountain  and  dell, 
And  feel  my  bosom  with  majesty  swell. 

As  the  primal  monarch  of  all ; 
To  gaze  on  the  earth,  the  sky,  and  the  sea. 
And  feel  that,  like  them,  I  am  chainless  and  free, 
And  never,  while  breathing,  to  bend  the  knee, 

But  at  the  Manitou's*  call." 

9.  An  aged  Christian  went  tottering  by. 

And  white  was  his  hair,  and  dim  was  his  eye, 
^:  •       And  his  wasted  spirit  seemed  ready  to  fly, 
As  he  said,  with  faltering  breath, 

*  Man'  I  Tou,  {man'  i  too,)  a  spirit,  god,  or  devil,  of  the  American  In- 
dians. 


220  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

"  It  is  Life  to  move  from  the  heart's  first  throes, 
Through  youth  and  manhood  to  age's  snows, 
In  a  ceaseless  circle  of  joys  and  woes,  — 
It  is  Life  to  prepare  for  Death  ! " 


lesso:n^  lxl 

^  Gib'  BON,  Edward,  the  celebrated  English  historian,  was  bom  at  Putney, 
1737  ;  and  died  in  London,  1794.  His  "  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire  "  is  a  work  of  great  merit,  and  its  extraordinary  union  of  ex- 
cellences—  variety,  correctness,  and  vigor  of  narrative  and  descrip- 
tion—  deepens  the  regret  with  which  we  contemplate  the  skeptical 
taint  that  is  diffused  through  its  pages. 

^  Leib'nitz,  Godfrey  William,  an  eminent  mathematician  and  philoso- 
pher, was  born  at  Leipsic,  1646  ;  and  died  at  Hanover,  1716.  Within 
the  vast  region  of  speculative  thought,  there  was  no  department  un- 
visited  by  the  ever-living  activity  of  Leibnitz,  or  unillumined  by  his  brill- 
iancy. He  has  left  the  firm  impress  of  his  intellect  upon  the  minds 
of  jurists,  historians,  theologians,  naturalists,  mathematicians,  and 
metaphysicians  of  the  highest  order. 

*  Pas'  cal,  Blaise,  an   eminent  geometrician  and  writer,   was  born   in 

France,  1623 ;  and  died  1662.  During  a  protracted  illness,  he  had  such 
an  overwhelming  sense  of  the  importance  of  religion,  that  he  resolved 
to  renounce  all  his  scientific  and  secular  pursuits,  and  to  apply  his  mind 
exclusively  to  the  study  of  theology,  and  the  means  by  which*  he  might 
promote  the  best  interests  of  his  felloAv-men. 

*  Cic'  E  RO,  Marcus  Tullius,  the  most  famous  of  Roman  orators,  was  bom 

106  before  Christ,  and  was  murdered  by  order  of  Mark  Antony,  43  b.c. 

^  Raph'  a  el,  Santi  or  Sanzo,  the  most  celebrated  of  Italian  painters,  was 
born  April  6,  1483  ;  and  died  at  Rome,  on  his  birthday,  April  6,  1520, 
aged  thirty-seven  years.  Raphael's  greatest  works  are  unrivaled,  and 
his  fame  soars  above  that  of  all  his  competitors,  not  excepting  Michael 
Angelo  himself.  He  is  universally  acclaimed  the  Prince  of  Painters, 
and  chiefly  for  those  lofty  sentimental  qualities  of  his  works,  which  all 
can  feel,  but  few  describe. 

«  Homes  and  Milton.     See  notes  pp.  106,  107. 


UNION  FIFTH  BEADEK.  221 

PLEASURES   OF   KNOWLEDGE. 

SYDNEY  SMITH. 

IT  is  NOBLE  to  seek  Truth,  and  it  is  beautiful  to  find  it. 
It  is  the  feeling  of  the  human  heart,  that  knowledge  is 
better  than  riches  ;  and  it  is  deeply  and  sacredly  true.  To 
mark  the  course  of  human  passions  as  they  have  flowed  on 
in  the  ages  that  are  past ;  to  see  why  nations  have  risen, 
and  why  they  have  fallen ;  to  speak  of  heat,  and  light, 
and  the  winds ;  to  know  what  man  has  discovered  in  the 
heavens  above,  and  in  the  earth  beneath ;  to  hear  the 
chemist  unfold  the  marvelous  properties  that  the  Creator 
has  locked  up  in  a  speck  of  earth ;  to  be  told  that  there 
are  worlds  so  distant  from  our  own,  that  the  quicknirss  of 
light,  traveling  from  the  world's  creation,  has  never  yet 
reached  us ;  to  wander  in  the  creations  of  poetry,  and 
grow  warm  again  with  that  eloquence  which  swayed  the 
democracies  of  the  Old  World ;  to  go  up  with  great  rea- 
soners  to  the  First  Cause  of  all,  and  to  perceive,  in  the 
midst  of  all  this  dissolution,  and  decay,  and  cruel  separa- 
tion, that  there  is  one  thing  unchangeable,  indestructible, 
and  everlasting,  —  it  is  worth  while,  in  the  days  of  our 
youth,  to  strive  hard  for  this  great  discipline  ;  to  pass  sleep- 
iest nights  for  it ;  to  give  up  for  it  laborious  days  ;  to  spurn 
for  it  present  pleasures  ;  to  endure  for  it  afflicting  poverty ; 
to  wade  for  it  through  darkness,  and  sorrow,  and  contempt, 
as  the  great  spirits  of  the  world  have  done  in  all  ages,  and 
in  all  times. 

2.  I  appeal  to  the  experience  of  any  man  who  is  in  the 
habit  of  exercising  his  mind  vigorously  and  well,  whether 
there  is  not  a  satisfaction  in  it,  which  tells  him  he  has  been 
acting  up  to  one  of  the  great  objects  of  his  existence.  The 
end  of  nature  has  been  answered :  his  faculties  have  done 


222  SANDERS*  XJNIOK  SERIES. 

that  which  they  were  created  to  do,  —  not  languidly  occu- 
pied upon  trifles,  nor  enervated  by  sensual  gratification, 
but  exercised  in  that  toil  which  is  so  congenial  to  their 
nature,  and  so  worthy  of  their  strength. 

3.  A  life  of  knowledge  is  not  often  a  life  of  injury  and 
crime.  Whom  does  such  a  man  oppress  ?  with  whose  hap- 
piness does  he  interfere?  whom  does  his  ambition  destroy? 
and  whom  does  his  fraud  deceive  ?  In  the  pursuit  of  sci- 
ence he  injures  no  man^  and.  In  the  acquisition,  he  does  good 
to  all.  A  man  who  dedicates  his  life  to  knowledge,  be- 
comes habituated  to  pleasure  which  carries  with  it  no  re- 
proach :  and  there  is  one  security  that  he  will  never  love 
that  pleasure  which  is  paid  for  by  anguish  of  heart.  His 
pleasures  are  all  cheap,  all  dignified,  and  all  innocent; 
and,  as  far  as  any  human  being  can  expect  permanence  in 
this  changing  scene,  he  has  'secured  a  happiness  which  no 
malignity  of  fortune  can  ever  take  away,  but  which  must 
cleave  to  him  while  he  lives,  ameliorating  every  good,  and 
diminishing  every  evil  of  his  existence.  .  .  . 

4.  The  prevailing  idea  with  young  people  has  been,  the 
incompatibility  of  labor  and  genius;  and,  therefore,  from 
the  fear  of  being  thought  dull,  they  have  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  remain  ignorant.  I  have  seen,  at  school  and  at 
college,  a  great  many  young  men  completely  destroyed  by 
having  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  produce  an  excellent  copy 
of  verses.  Their  genius  being  now  established,  all  that  re- 
mained for  them  to  do  was  to  act  up  to  the  dignity  of  the 
character ;  and  as  this  dignity  consisted  in  reading  nothing 
new,  in  forgetting  what  they  had  already  read,  and  in  pre- 
tending to  be  acquainted  with  all  subjects  by  a  sort  of 
off-hand  exertion  of  talents,  they  soon  collapsed  into  the 
most  frivolous  and  insignificant  of  men. 

5.  It  would  be  an  extremely  profitable  thing  to  draw  up 


UNION  FIFTH  BEADER.  223 

a  short  and  well-authenticated  account  of  the  habits  of 
study  of  the  most  celebrated  writers,  with  whose  style  of 
literary  industry  we  happen  to  be  most  acquainted.  Gib- 
bon^ was  in  his  study  every  morning,  winter  and  summer, 
at  six  o'clock ;  Mr.  Burke  was  the  most  laborious  and  in- 
defatigable of  human  beings ;  Leibnitz^  was  never  out  of 
his  library;  PascaP  killed  himself  by  study ;  Cicero*  nar- 
rowly escaped  death  by  the  same  cause  ;  Milton  was  at  his 
books  with  as  much  regularity  as  a  merchant  or  an  attor- 
ney ;  he  had  mastered  all  the  knowledge  of  his  time  :  so 
had  Homer.  RaphaeP  lived  but  thirty-seven  years,  and 
in  that  short  space  carried  his  art  so  far  beyond  what  it 
had  before  reached,  that  he  appears  to  stand  alone  as  a 
model  to  his  successors. 

6.  There  are  instances  to  the  contrary ;  but,  generally 
speaking,  the  hfe  of  all  truly  great  men  has  been  a  life  of 
intense  and  incessant  labor.  They  have  commonly  passed 
the  first  half  of  life  in  the  gross  darkness  of  indigent 
humility,  —  overlooked,  mistaken,  contemned,  by  weaker 
men,  —  thinking  while  others  slept,  reading  while  others 
rioted,  feeling  something  within  that  told  them  they  should 
not  always  be  kept  down  among  the  dregs  of  the  world. 
And  then,  when  their  time  was  come,  and  some  little  acci- 
dent has  given  them  their  first  occasion,  they  have  burst 
out  into  the  fight  and  glory  of  public  life,  rich  with  the 
spoils  of  time,  and  mighty  in  all  the  labors  and  struggles 
of  the  mind. 

7.  Then  do  the  multitude  cry  out,  —  "^  miracle  of 
genius!^''  Yes;  he  is  a  miracle  of  genius,  because  he  is  a 
miracle  of  labor ;  because,  instead  of  trusting  to  the  re- 
sources of  his  own  single  mind,  he  has  ransacked  a  thou- 
sand minds ;  because  he.  makes  use  of  the  accumulated 
wisdom  of  ages,  and  takes  as  his  point  of  departure  the 


224  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

very  last  line  and  boundary  to  which  science  has  advanced ; 
because  it  has  ever  been  the  object  of  his  life  to  assist  every 
intellectual  gift  of  nature,  however  munificent,  and  how- 
ever splendid,  with  every  resource  that  art  could  suggest, 
and  every  attention  dihgence  could  bestow. 

8.  But  some  men  may  be  disposed  to  ask, — "  Why  con- 
duct my  understanding  with  such  endless  care  ?  and  what 
is  the  use  of  so  much  knowledge  ?  *'  What  is  the  use  of 
so  much  knowledo-e  ?  What  is  the  use  of  so  much  life  ? 
What  are  we  to  do  with  the  seventy  years  of  existence 
allotted  to  us  ?  and  how  are  we  to  live  them  out  to  the 
last  ?  I  solemnly  declare,  that,  but  for  the  love  of  knowl- 
edge, I  should  consider  the  life  of  the  meanest  liedger  and 
ditcher  as  preferable  to  that  of  the  greatest  and  richest 
man  in  existence  ;  for  the  fire  of  our  minds  is  like  the  fire 
which  the  Persians  burn  on  the  mountains,  —  it  flames 
night  and  day,  and  is  immortal,  and  not  to  be  quenched ! 
Upon  something  it  must  act  and  feed,  —  upon  the  pure 
spirit  of  knowledge,  or  upon  the  foul  di'egs  of  polluting 
passions. 

9.  Therefore,  when  I  say,  in  conducting  your  under- 
standing, love  knowledge  with  a  great  love,  —  with  a  vehe- 
ment love,  with  a  love  coeval  with  life,  —  what  do  I  say  but 
love  innocence  ;  love  virtue  ;  love  purity  of  conduct ;  love 
that  which,  if  you  are  rich  and  great,  will  sanctify  the 
Providence  which  has  made  you  so,  and  make  men  call  it 
justice  ;  love  that  which,  if  you  are  poor,  will  render  your 
poverty  respectable,  and  make  the  proudest  feel  it  unjust 
to  laugh  at  the  meanness  of  your  fortunes ;  love  that  which 
will  comfort  you,  adorn  you,  and  never  quit  you,  —  which 
will  open  to  you  the  kingdom  of  thought,  and  all  the 
boundless  regions  of  conception,  as  an  asylum  against  the 
cruelty,  the  injustice,  and  the  pain  that  may  be  your  lot 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  225 

in  the  outer  world,  —  that  which  will  make  your  motives 
habitually  great  and  honorable,  and  light  up  in  an  instant 
a  thousand  noble  disdains  at  the  very  thought  of  meanness 
and  of  fraud  ? 

10.  Therefore,  if  any  young  man  have  embarked  his  life 
in  the  pursuit  of  Knowledge,  let  him  go  on  without  doubt- 
ing or  fearing  the  event :  let  him  not  be  intimidated  by  the 
cheerless  beginnings  of  Knowledge,  by  the  darkness  from 
which  she  springs,  by  the  difficulties  which  hover  around 
her,  by  the  ^\'Tetched  habitations  in  which  she  dwells,  by 
the  want  and  sorrow  which  sometimes  journey  in  her 
train ;  but  let  him  ever  follow  her  as  the  Angel  that 
guards  him,  and  as  the  Genius  of  his  life.  She  will  bring 
him  out  at  last  into  the  light  of  day,  and  exhibit  him  to  the 
world  comprehensive  in  acquirements,  fertile  in  resources, 
rich  in  imagination,  strong  in  reasoning,  prudent  and  pow- 
erful above  his  fellows  in  all  the  relations  and  in  all  the 
offices  of  life. 


LESSON    LXII. 

*  Rus'  KIN,  John,  was  born  in  London  in  the  year  1819.  In  1843,  he  pub- 
lished a  work  entitled  "Modern  Painters,"  in  which  he  advocates  the 
claims  of  the  moderns  over  the  ancients  to  superiority  in  the  art  of 
landscape-painting.  He  has  published  several  Avorks  since,  and  is  still 
devoted  to  the  study  of  his  art.  The  brilliancy  of  his  diction,  and 
splendor  of  his  style,  never  fail  to  secure  the  admiration  of  all. 

MAN  AND  THE   INDUSTRIAL  ARTS. 

DR.  GEORGE  WILSON. 

THE    Industrial   Arts   are   necessary  arts.      The   most 
degraded  savage  must  practice   them,  and  the  most 
civilized  genius  can  not  dispense  with  them.     Whatever 
be  our  gifts  of  intellect  or  fortune,  we  can  not  avoid  being 
15 


226  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

hungry,  and  thirsty,  and  cold,  and  weary,  every  day ;  and 
we  must  fight  for  our  lives  against  the  hunger,  and  thirst, 
and  cold,  and  weariness,  which  wage  an  unceasing  war 
against  us.  But,  though  the  Industrial  Arts  are  common, 
they  are  not  Ignoble  arts.  They  minister,  indeed,  to  those 
physical  wants  which  we  share  with  the  lower  animals ; 
but  we  are'raised  above  them  as  much  by  being  industrial 
as  by  being  aesthetic  artists.  We  are  the  former  by  virtue 
of  our  superior  intellect^  as  we  are  the  latter  by  virtue  of 
our  superior  imagination. 

2.  It  is  with  every-day  life,  and  every-day  cares,  that 
the  Industrial  Arts  have  to  do,  —  with  man,  not  as  "a  lit- 
tle lower  than  the  angels,"*  but  "as  crushed  before  the 
moth,"  and  weaker  th^n  the  weakest  of  the  beasts  that 
perish,  —  with  man  as  a  hungry,  thirsty^  restless,  quarrel- 
some, naked  animal.  But  man^  because  he  Is  this,  and 
just  because  he  Is  this,  is  raised,  by  the  industrial  conquests 
which  he  is  compelled  to  achieve,  to  a  place  of  power  and 
dignity,  separating  him  by  an  absolutely  immeasurable  in- 
terval from  every  other  animal. 

3.  It  might  appear,  at  first  sight,  as  if  It  were  not  so. 
As  Industrial  creatures,  we  often  look  like  wretched  copy- 
ists of  animals  far  beneath  us  In  the  scale  of  organization ; 
and  we  seem  to  confess  as  much  by  the  names  which  w^e 
give  them.  The  mason-wasp,  the  carpenter-bee,  the  min- 
ing caterpillars,  the  quarrying  sea-slugs,  execute  their  work 
in  a  way  which  we  can  not  rival  or  excel.  The  bird  Is 
an  ex'quisite  architect ;  the  beaver  a  most  skillful  bridge- 
builder  ;  the  silk-worm  the  most  beautiful  of  weavers  ;  the 
spider  the  best  of  net-makers.  Each  Is  a  perfect  craftsman, 
and  each  lias  his  tools  always  at  hand. 

4.  Those  wise  creatures  will  do  one  thing  rather  than 
another,  and  do  that  one  thing  in  different  ways  at  differ- 


UNION  FIFTH  READEE.  227 

ent  times.  A  bird,  for  example,  selects  a  place  to  build  its 
nest,  and  accommodates  its  form  to  the  particular  locality 
it  has  chosen ;  and  a  bee  alters  the  otherwise  invariable 
shape  of  its  cell,  when  the  space  it  is  working  in  forbids  it 
to  carry  out  its  hexagonal  plan.  Yet  it  is  impossible  to 
watch  these,  or  others  among  the  lower  animals,  and  fail 
to  see  that,  to  a  great  extent,  they  are  mere  living  machines^ 
saved  from  the  care  and  anxiety  which  lie  so  heavily  upon 
us,  by  their  entire  contentment  with  the  present,  their 
oblivion  of  the  past,  and  their  indifference  to  the  future. 

5.  They  do  invent,  they  do  design,  they  do  exercise 
volition  in  wonderful  ways ;  but  their  most  wonderful 
works  imply  neither  invention,  contrivance,  nor  volition, 
but  only  a  placid,  pleasant,  easily-rendered  obedience  to 
instincts  which  reign  without  rivals,  and  justify  their  des- 
potic rule  by  the  infallible  happiness  which  they  secure. 
There  is  nothing,  accordingly,  obsolete,  nothing  tentative, 
nothing  progressive,  in  the  labors  of  the  most  wonderful 
mechanicians  among  the  lower  animals.  It  has  cost  none 
of  these  ingenious  artists  any  intellectual  effort  to  learn  its 
craft ;  for  God  gave  it  to  each  perfect  in  the  beginning ; 
and  within  the  circle  to  which  they  apply,  the  rules  which 
guide  their  work  are  infallible,  and  know  no  variation. 

6.  No  feathered  Ruskin^  appears  among  the  birds,  to  dis- 
cuss before  them  whether  their  nests  should  be  built  on  the 
principles  of  Grecian  or  Gothic  architecture.  No  beaver, 
in  advance  of  his  age,  patents  a  diving-bell.  No  glow- 
worm advocates,  in  the  hearing  of  her  conservative  sisters, 
the  merits  of  new  vesta-lights,  or  improved  lucifer-matches. 
The  silk-worms  entertain  no  propositions  regarding  the 
substitution  of  machinery  for  bodily  labor.  The  spiders 
never  divide  the  House  on  the  question  of  a  Ten-hours 
Working  Bill.     The  ants  are  as  one  on  their  Corn-laws. 


228  SANDEES'  UNION  SERIES. 

The  bees  never  alter  their  tax  upon  sugar,  nor  dream  of 
lessening  the  severities  of  their  penal  code ;  their  drones 
are  slaughtered  as  relentlessly  as  they  were  three  thousand 
years  ago  ;  nor  has  a  solitary  change  been  permitted,  since 
first  there  were  bees,  in  any  of  their  singular  domestic 
institutions. 

7.  To  those  wise  creatures  the  Author  of  all  has  given, 
not  only  infallible  rules  for  their  work,  but  unfaltering  faith 
in  them.  Labor  is  for  them  not  a  doubt,  but  a  certainty. 
Duty  is  the  same  thing  as  happiness.  They  never  grow 
weary  of  life ;  and  death  never  surprises  them.  We  are 
industrial  for  other  reasons,  and  in  a  different  way.  Our 
working  instincts  are  very  few ;  our  faith  in  them  still 
more  feeble  ;  and  our  physical  wants  far  greater  than  those 
of  any  other  creature. 

8.  With  the  intellects  of  angels,  and  the  bodies  of  earth- 
worms, we  have  the  power  to  conquer,  and  the  need  to  do 
it.  The  Industrial  Arts  are  the  result  of  our  destitution 
and  necessities.  The  Fine  Arts  may  be  gracefully  grouped 
round  the  five  senses,  —  the  eye  to  the  painter,  the  ear 
to  the  musician,  the  tongue  to  the  poet,  the  hand  to  the 
sculptor,  and  the  whole  body,  the  instrument  of  touch, 
among  all.  The  Fine  Arts  thus  begin  each  Avith  a  special 
sense,  and  converge  toward  the  body ;  the  Industrial  Arts 
begin  with  the  body,  and  diverge  toward  the  special 
senses.  .  .  . 

9.  The  shivering  savage  in  the  colder  countries  robs  the 
seal  and  the  bear,  the  buffalo  and  the  deer,  of  the  one 
mantle  which  Nature  has  given  them.  The  wild  hunts- 
man, by  a  swift  but  simple  transmutation,  becomes  the 
clothier,  the  tailor,  the  tanner,  the  currier,  the  leather- 
dresser,  the  glover,  the  saddler,  the  shoemaker,  the  tent- 
Vnaker.     And   the    tent-maker  becomes  quickly  a  house- 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADEB.  229 

builder,  building  with  snow  where  better  material  is  not 
to  be  had ;  and  a  ship-builder,  constructing  out  of  a  few 
wooden  ribs,  and  stretched  animal-skins,  canoes  which  may 
survive  where  our  ships  of  oak  have  gone  to  destruction. 

10.  The  savage  of  the  warmer  regions  seeks  a  covering, 
not  from  the  cold,  but  from  the  sun,  which  smites  him  by 
day ;  and  the  moon,  which  smites  him  by  night.  The 
palm,  the  banana,  the  soft-barked  trees,  the  broad-leaved 
sedges,  and  long-fibered  grasses,  are  spoiled  by  him,  as  the 
beasts  of  the  field  are  by  his  colder  brother.  He  becomes  a 
sower,  a  reaper,  a  spinner,  a  weaver,  a  baker,  a  brewer, 
a  distiller,  a  dyer,  a  carpenter ;  and  while  he  is  tliese^  he 
bends  the  pliant  stems  of  his  tropical  forests  into  roof-trees 
and  rafters,  and  clothes  them  with  leaves,  and  makes  for 
himself  a  tabernacle  of  boughs,  and  so  is  the  arch-architect 
of  a  second  great  school  of  architecture. 

11.  It  is  not,  however,  his  cultivation  of  the  arts  which 
have  been  named,  or  of  others,  that  makes  man  peculiar  as 
an  industrial  animal ;  it  is  the  mode  in  which  he  practices 
them.  The  first  step  he  takes  toward  remedying  his  des- 
titution and  helplessness,  is  in  a  direction  where  no  other 
creature  has  led  the  way,  and  none  has  followed  his  exam- 
ple. He  lays  hold  of  that  most  powerful  of  all  weapons 
of  peace  or  war,  fire^  from  which  every  other  animal, 
unless  when  fortified  by  his  presence,  flees  in  terror ;  and 
Avith  it  alone  not  only  clothes  himself,  but  lays  the  founda- 
tion of  a  hundred  arts.  Man  is  the  only  animal  that  can 
strike  a  light,  —  the  solitary  creature  that  knows  how  to 
kindle  a  fire. 

12.  Once  provided  with  his  kindled  brand,  the  savage 
technologist  soon  proves  Avhat  a  scepter  of  power  he  holds 
in  his  hand.  He  tills  with  it ;  by  a  single  touch  burning 
up  the  withered  grass  of  a  past  season,  and  scattering  its 


230     .  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

ashes  to  fertilize  the  plains,  which  will  quickly  be  green 
again.  Tt  serves  him  as  an  ax  to  fell  the  tallest  trees,  and 
hollows  out  for  him  the  canoe  in  which  he  adventures 
upon  strange  seas.  It  is  an  all-sufficient  defense  against 
the  fiercest  wild  beasts  ;  and  it  reduces  for  him  the  iroa 
ore  of  the  rocks,  and  forges  it  into  a  weapon  of  war.  In- 
deed, his  kindled  brand  makes  the  savage,  without  further 
help,  a  farmer,  a  baker,  a  cook,  a  carpenter,  a  smith,  a 
potter,  a  brick-maker,  a  lime-burner,  and  builder ;  and, 
besides  much  else,  a  soldier  and  a  sailor. 

13.  You  may  think  this  sketch  of  the  savage's  obliga- 
tion to  fire  fanciful  and  exaggerated ;  but  if  you  consider 
how  every  human  industrial  art  stands  directly  or  indi- 
rectly related  to  fire,  while  no  animal  art  does,  you  will 
not  regard  the  statement  as  extravagant.  The  great  con- 
quering people  of  the  world  have  been  those  who  knew 
best  how  to  deal  with  fire.  The  most  wealthy  of  the 
active  nations  are  those  which  dwell  in  countries  richly 
provided  with  fuel.  No  inventions  have  changed  the  en- 
tire world  more  than  steam  and  gunpowder.  We  are 
what  we  are,  largely  because  we  are  the  ministers  and 
masters  of  fire. 

14.  Every  other  animal  is  by  nature  fully  equipped  and 
caparisoned  for  its  work ;  its  tools  are  ready  for  use,  and  it 
is  ready  to  use  them.  We  have  first  to  invent  our  tools, 
and  then  to  fashion  them,  and  then  to  learn  how  to  handle 
them.  Man's  marvelous  hand  is,  no  doubt,  in  itself,  an 
exquisite  instrument  of  art ;  but  our  hands  would  be  noth- 
ing to  us  but  for  our  tvise  heads.  Two-thirds,  at  least,  of 
our  industrial  doings  are  preliminary.  Before  two  pieces 
of  cloth  can  be  sewed  together,  we  require  a  needle,  which 
embodies  the  inventiveness  of  a  hundred  ingenious  brains; 
and  a  hand,  which  only  a  hundred  botchings  and  failures 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEE.  231 

have,  in  the  lapse  of  years,  taught  to  use  the  instrument 
with  skill. 

15.  It  is  so  with  all  the  crafts,  and  they  are  inseparably 
dependent  on  each  other.  The  mason  waits  on  tlie  car- 
penter  for  his  mallet ;  and  the  carpenter,  on  the  smith  for 
his  saw ;  the  smith,  on  the  smelter  for  his  iron  ;  and  the 
smelter,  on  the  miner  for  his  ore.  Each,  moreover,  needs 
the  help  of  all  the  others.  This  helplessness  of  the  single 
craftsman  is  altogether  peculiar  to  the  human  artist.  The 
lower  animals  are  all  polyartists,  and  never  heard  of  such  a 
doctrine  as  that  of  the  division  of  labor. 

16.  The  same  bee,  for  example,  markets,  and  bakes  bee- 
bread,  and  manufactures  sugar,  and  makes  w^ax,  and  builds 
store-houses,  and  plans  apartments,  and  nurses  the  royal 
infants,  and  waits  upon  the  queen,  and  apprehends  thieves, 
and  smites  to  the  death  the  enemies  of  the  Amazons.  The 
nightingale,  though  he  is  a  poet,  builds  and  furnishes  his 
nest  without  any  help  from  the  raven ;  and  the  lark  does 
not  excuse  herself  from  her  household  duties  because  she 
is  an  excellent  musician. 

17.  Nor  are.  there  deo-rees  of  skill  amono;  the  animal 
artists.     Tho   beavers  pay  no  consulting  fees  to  eminent 
beaver-engineers  experienced  in  hydraulics ;  the  coral  in- 
sects do  not  offer  hicrher  wa^es  to  skilled  workmen  at  reef- 
ed o 

building ;  every  nautilus  is  an  equally  good  sailor ;  and 
the  wasps,  engaged  in  "just  and  necessary  wars,"  offer  no 
bounties  to  tempt  veteran  soldiers  into  their  armies.  The 
industrialness,  then,  of  man  is  carried  out  in  a  way  quite 
peculiar  to  himself,  and  singularly  illustrative  of  his, com- 
bined weakness  and  greatness.  The  most  helpless,  physic- 
ally, of  animals,  and  yet  the  one  with  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  pressing  appetites  and  desires,  he  has  no  working 
instincts  to  secure  the  gratification  of  his  most  pressing 
wants,  and  no  tools  which  such  instincts  can  work  with. 


232  SANDEKS'  UNION   SERIES. 

18.  He  is  compelled,  therefore,  to  fall  back  upon  the 
powers  of  his  reason  and  understanding^  and  make  his  in- 
tellect serve  him  instead  of  a  crowd  of  instinctive  impulses  ; 
and  his  intellect-guided  hand,  instead  of  an  apparatus  of 
tools.-  Before  that  hand,  armed  with  the  tools  which  it 
has  fashioned,  and  that  intellect,  which  marks  man  as  made 
in  the  image  of  God,  the  instincts  and  weapons  of  the  en- 
tire animal  creation  are  as  nothing.  He  reigns,  by  right 
of  conquest,  as  indisputably  as  by  right  of  inheritance,  the 
king  of  this  world. 


LESSON    LXIII. 
THE    BEAUTIFUL. 

E.  H.  BURRINGTON. 

1.  liTTALK  with  the  Beautiful,  and  with  the  Grand; 

T  V       Let  nothing  on  the  earth  thy  feet  deter  ; 
Sorrow  may  lead  thee  weeping  by  the  hand. 
But  give  not  all  thy  bosom-thoughts  to  her: 
Walk  with  the  Beautiful !     ' 

2.  I  hear  thee  say,  —  "  The  Beautiful !  what  is  it?" 

O,  thou  art  darkly  ignorant  I     Be  sure 
'Tis  no  long,  weary  road,  its  form  to  visit ; 
For  thou  canst  make  it  smile  beside  thy  door : 
Then  love  the  Beautiful ! 

3.  Ay?  love  it ;  'tis  a  sister  that  will  bless. 

And  teach  thee  patience  when  thy  heart  is  lonely ; 
The  angels  love  it ;  for  they  wear  its  dress  ; 
And  thou  art  made  a  little  lower  only : 
Then  love  the  Beautiful ! 


UNION  FIFTH  READEB.  23-^ 

4.  Some  boast  its  presence  in  a  Grecian  face  ;  * 

Some,  in  a  favorite  warbler  of  the  skies ; 
But  be  not  fooled  !     Whate'er  thine  eye  may  trace, 
Seeking  the  Beautiful,  it  will  arise : 
Then  seek  it  everywhere, 

5.  Thy  bosom  is  its  mint;  the  workmen  are 

Thy  Thoughts,  and  they  must  coin  for  thee.  Believing 
The  Beautiful  exists  in  every  star, 

Thou  mak'st  it  so  ;  and  art  thyself  deceiving, 
If  otherwise  thy  faith. 

6.  Dost  thou  see  Beauty  in  the  violet's  cup  ? 

I'll  teach  thee  miracles.     Walk  on  this  heath, 
And  say  to  the  neglected  flowers,  —  "  Look  up, 
And  be  ye  beautiful !  "     If  thou  hast  faith, 
They  will  obey  thy  word. 

T.  One  thing  I  warn  thee :  bow  no  knee  to  gold  ; 
Less  innocent  it  makes  the  guileless  tonsne  ; 
It  turns  the  feelings  prematurely  old  ; 

And  they  who  keep  their  best  affections  young, 
Best  love  the  Beautiful. 

Questions.  1.  What  rule  for  spelling  deceiving  -with  ei,  and  believing 
with  ie,  5th  stanza  ?  Answer :  All  words  of  this  class,  in  which  the  diph- 
thong is  preceded  by  the  letter  c,  are  spelled  with  ei ;  if  the  diphthong  is 
preceded  by  any  other  letter,  they  are  spelled  with  ie.  2.  What  is  the 
meaning  of  the  suffix  less  in  the  word  guileless,  7th  stanza  1  See  Sanders* 
Union  Speller,  page  143. 

*  Gre'  cian  face.  The  ancient  Grecians  were  distinguished  for  their 
s//inmetrt/  and  beauty,  many  proofs  of  which  may  be  seen  in  those  exquisite 
specimens  of  statuary  wliich  have  been  handed  down  to  us  as  the  beau-ideal 
of  the  Grecian  form. 


234  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

LESSON   LXIY. 
THE    BRIGHT    FLOWERS. 

ANON. 

1.  /^H !  they  look  upward  in  every  place 
\J     Tlirough  this  beautiful  world  of  ours ; 
And  dear  as  the  smile  on  an  old  friend's  face 

Is  the  smile  of  the  bright,  bright  flowers. 
They  tell  us  of  wanderings  by  wood  and  streams, 

They  tell  us  of  lanes  and  trees ; 
But  the  children  of  showers  and  sunny  beams 

Have  lovelier  tales  than  these, — 

(^All  the  class)  The  bright,  bright  flowers  ! 

2.  They  tell  of  a  season  when  men  were  not, 

When  earth  was  by  angels  trod ; 
And  leaves  and  flowers  at  every  spot 

Burst  forth  at  the  call  of  God, — 
When  spirits,  singing  their  hymns  at  even, 

Wandered  by  wood  and  glade, 
And  the  Lord  looked  down  from  the  highest  heaven, 

And  blessed  what  He  had  made,  — 

(^All  the  class}  The  bright,  bright  flowers  ! 

3.  The  blessing  remaineth  upon  them  still. 

Though  often  the  storm-cloud  lowers ; 
And  frequent  tempests  may  soil  and  chill 

The  gayest  of  earth's  fair  flowers. 
When  Sin  and  Death,  with  their  sister,  Grief, 

Made  a  home  in  the  hearts  of  men. 
The  blessing  of  God  in  each  tender  leaf 

Preserved  in  their  beauty  then 

(^All  the  class)  The  bright,  bright  flowers  I 


CTNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  235 

The  lily  is  lovely  as  when  it  slept 

On  the  waters  of  Eden's  lake ; 
The  woodbine  breathes  sweetly  as  when  it  crept 

In  Eden  from  brake  to  brake. 
They  were  left  as  a  proof  of  the  loveliness 

Of  Adam  and  Eve's  first  home  ; 
They  are  here  as  a  type  of  the  joys  that  bless 

The  just  in  the  world  to  come, — 

(^All  the  class}  The  bright,  bright  flowers  ! 


LESSOISr    LXV. 
THE     SUMMER    RAIN, 

HELEN   MITCHELL. 

1.  /^H  the  rain,  the  beautiful  rain  ! 
yj    Cheerily,  merrily  falls. 

Beating  its  wings  'gainst  the  window-pane, 

Trickling  down  the  walls,  — 
Over  the  meadow  with  pattering  feet, 
Kissing  the  clover-blossoms  sweet,. 
Singing  the  blue-bells  fiist  asleep. 
Making  the  pendent  willows  weep,  ^- 

Over  the  hillside  brown. 

Over  the  dusty  town, 

Merrily,  cheerily,  cometh  it  down, 
The  rain,  the  summer  rain  ! 

2.  Oh  the  rain,  the  welcome  rain  ! 

Softly,  kindly,  it  falls 
On  tiny  flower  and  thirsting  plain. 
And  vine  by  the  cottage-walls  ; 


236  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

Laughingly  tipping  the  Hly's  cup, 
It  filleth  the  crystal  chahce  up, 
Joyously  greeting  the  earth  that  thrills 
Through  her  thousand  veins  of  gathering  rills. 

Over  the  violet's  bed, . 

Over  the  sleeping  dead, 

Cometh  with  kindly  tread 
The  rain,  the  gentle  rain  ! 

3.   Oh  the  rain,  the  cheering  rain  ! 

Drifting  slowly,  sweetly  down, 
Where  spreading  fields  of  golden  grain 

The  sloping  hillsides  crown  ; 
Flecking  with  dimples  the  lake's  calm  face, 
Quickening  the  schoolboy's  tardy  pace, 
Caressing  a  bud  by  a  wayside  stone, 
Leaving  a  gem  as  it  passes  on, 
'  In  the  daisy's  breast, 

On  the  thistle's  crest. 

And  the  buttercup  richly  blest 
By  the  rain,  the  generous  rain  ! 


LESSON"   LXYL 

A  NOBLE  REVENGE. 

THOMAS  DE  QUINCEY. 

A  YOUNG  officer  had  so  far  forgotten  himself,  in  a  mo- 
ment of  irritation,  as  to  strike  a  private  soldier,  full 
of  personal  dignity,  and  distinguished  for  his  courage. 
The  inex'orable  laws  of  military  discipline  forbade  to  the 
injured  soldier  any  redress,  —  he  could  look  for  no  retalia- 
tion by  acts.    Words  only  were  at  his  command  ;  and,  in  a 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  237 

tumult  of  indignation,  as  lie  turned  away,  the  soldier  said 
to  his  officer  that  he  would  "  make  him  repent  it."  This, 
wearing  the  shape  of  a  menace,  naturally  rekindled  the 
officer's  anger,  and  intercepted  any  disposition  which  might 
be  risino;  within  him  toward  a  sentiment  of  remorse ;  and 
thus  the  irritation  between  the  two  young  men  grew  hotter 
than  before. 

2.  Some  weeks  after  this,  a  partial  action  took  place  with 
the  enemy.  Suppose  yourself  a  spectator,  and  looking 
down  into  a  valley  occupied  by  the  two  armies.  They  are 
flicing  each  other,  you  see,  in  martial  array.  But  it  is  no 
more  than  a  skirmish  which  is  going  on  ;  in  the  course  of 
which,  however,  an  occasion  suddenly  arises  for  a  desperate 
service.  A  redoubt,  which  has  fallen  into  the  enemy's 
hands,  must  be  recaptured  at  any  price,  and  under  circum- 
stances of  all  but  hopeless  difficulty. 

3.  A  strong  party  has  volunteered  for  the  service  ;  there 
is  a  cry  for  somebody  to  head  them  :  you  see  a  soldier  step 
out  from  the  ranks  to  assume  this  dangerous  leadership. 
The  party  moves  rapidly  forward  ;  in  a  few  minutes  it  is 
swallowed  up  from  your  eyes  in  clouds  of  smoke ;  for  one 
half-hour,  from  behind  these  clouds  you  receive  hiero- 
glyphic reports  of  bloody  strife,  —  fierce-repeating  signals, 
flashes  from  the  guns,  rolling  musketry,  and  exulting  hur- 
rahs, advancing  or  receding,  slackening  or  redoubling. 

4.  At  length,  all  is  over ;  the  redoubt  has  been  recov- 
ered ;  that  which  was  lost,  is  found  again ;  the  jewel 
which  had  been  made  captive,  is  ransomed  with  blood. 
Crimsoned  with  glorious  gore,  the  wreck  of  the  conquer- 
ing party  is  relieved,  and  at  liberty  to  return.  From  the 
river  you  see  it  ascending.  The  plume-crested  officer  in 
command  rushes  forward,  with  his  left  hand  raising  his  hat 
in  homage  to  the  blackened  fragments  of  what  once  was  a 


238  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

flag,  while  with  his  right  hand  he  seizes  that  of  the  leader, 
though  no  more  than  a  private  from  the  ranks.  That  per- 
plexes you  not ;  mystery  you  see  none  in  that.  For  dis- 
tinctions of  order  perish,  ranks  are  confounded ;  ''  high 
and  low "  are  words  without  a  meaning  j  and  to  wreck 
goes  every  notion  or  feeling  that  divides  the  noble  from 
the  noble,  or  the  brave  man  from  the  brave. 

5.  But  wherefore  is  it  that  now,  when  suddenly  they 
wheel  into  mutual  recognition,  suddenly  they  pause  ? 
This  soldier,  this  officer,  —  who  are  they  ?  O  reader ! 
once  before  they  had  stood  face  to  face,  —  the  soldier  that 
was  struck,  the  officer  that  struck  him.  Once  again  they 
are  meeting,  and  the  gaze  of  armies  is  upon  them.  If,  for 
a  moment,  a  doubt  divides  them,  in  a  moment  that  doubt 
has  perished.  One  glance,  exchanged  between  them,  pub- 
lishes the  formveness  that  is  sealed  forever. 

6.  As  one  who  recovers  a  brother  whom  he  has  ac- 
counted dead,  the  officer  sprang  forward,  threw  his  arms 
around  the  neck  of  the  soldier,  and  kissed  him,  as  if  he 
were  some  martyr  glorified  by  that  shadow  of  death  from 
which  he  was  returning ;  while,  on  his  part,  the  soldier, 
stepping  back,  and  carrying  his  open  hand  through  the 
beautiful  motions  of  the  military  salute  to  a  superior,  makes 
this  immortal  answer,  —  that  answer  which  shut  up  for- 
ever the  memory  of  the  indignity  offered  to  him,  even 
while,  for  the  last  time,  alluding  to  it,  — "Sir,"  he  said, 
"  I  told  you  before  that  I  would  make  you  repent  it ! " 

7.  How  admirably  does  the  conduct  of  this  noble  soldier 
exemplify  the  teachings  of  the  Savior  !  —  ''  But  I  say  unto 
you,  that  ye  resist  not  evil.  Love  your  enemies  ;  bless 
them  that  curse  you ;  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you  ;  and 
pray  for  them  which  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute 
you  ;  that  ye  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father  which  is 
in  Heaven." 


UNION  FIFTH  BEADEK.  239 


LESSON"    LXVII. 
STORY   OF   THE   SIEGE    OF   CALAIS. 

HENUY   BUOOKE. 

EDWARD  III.,  after  the  battle  of  Cressy,  laid  siege  to 
Calais.*  He  had  fortified  his  camp  in  so  impregnable 
a  manner  that  all  the  efforts  of  France  proved  ineffectual 
to  raise  the  siege,  or  throw  succor  into  the  city.  The 
citizens,  under  Count  Vienne',  their  gallant  governor, 
made  an  admirable  defense.  France  had  now  put  the 
sickle  into  her  second  harvest  since  Edward,  Avith  his  vic- 
torious army,  sat  down  before  the  town.  The  eyes  of  all 
Europe  were  intent  on  the  issue. 

2.  At  length,  famine  did  more  for  Edward  than  arms. 
After  suffering  great  calamities,  they  resolved  to  attempt 
the  enemy's  camp.  They  boldly  sallied  forth  ;  the  Eng- 
lish joined  battle ;  and,  after  a  long  and  desperate  engage- 
ment. Count  Vienne  was  taken  prisoner ;  and  the  citizens 
who  survived  the  slaughter,  retired  within  their  gates. 
The  command  devolving  upon  Eustace  St.  Pierre',  a  man 
of  humble  birth,  but  of  exalted  virtue,  he  offered  to  capitu- 
late with  Edward,  provided  he  permitted  them  to  depart 
with  life  and  liberty. 

3.  Edward,  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  cruelty,  con- 
sented to  spare  the  bulk  of  the  plebe'ians,  provided  they 
delivered  up  to  him  six  of  their  principal  citizens^  with 
halters  about  their  necks,  as  victims  of  due  atonement  for 
that  spirit  of  rebellion  with  which  they  had  inflamed  the 
common  people.  When  his  messenger,  Sir  Walter  Mauny, 
delivered  the  terms,  consternation  and  pale  dismay  were 

*  French  pronunciation,  kaf  Id. 


240  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

impressed  on  every  countenance.  To  a  long  and  dead 
silence  deep  sighs  and  grdans  succeeded,  till  Eustace  St. 
Pierre,  standing  upon  a  little  eminence,  thus  addressed  the 
assembly :  — 

4.  "My  friends,  we  are  brought  to  great  straits  this 
day.  We  must  either  yield  to  the  terms  of  our  cruel  and 
insnaring  conqueror,  or  give  up  our  tender  infants,  our 
wives,  and  our  daugliters,  to  the  enemy.  Is  there  any 
expedient  left  whereby  we  may  avoid  the  guilt  and  infamy 
of  delivering  up  those  who  have  suffered  every  misery 
with  you,  on  the  one  hand,  or  the  desolation  and  horror 
of  a  sacked  city,  on  the  other'  ?  There  is,  my  friends ; 
there  is  one  expedient  left! — a  gracious,  an  excellent, 
a  god-like  expedient  left!  Is  there  any  here  to  whom 
virtue  is  dearer  than  life'  ?  Let  him  offer  himself  an  obla- 
tion for  the  safety  of  his  people  !  He  shall  not  fail  to  live 
forever  in  the  memories  of  his  countrymen." 

5.  He  spoke  ;  but  a  universal  silence  ensued.  Each  man 
looked  around  for  the  example  of  that  virtue  and  magna- 
nimity which  all  wished  to  approve  m  themselves,  though 
they  wanted  the  resolution.  At  length,  St.  Pierre  re- 
sumed:— "  I  doubt  not  but  there  are  many  here  as  ready 
for,  nay,  more  zealous  of,  this  martyrdom  than  /  can  be ; 
though  the  station  to  which  I  am  raised  by  the  captivity  of 
Lord  Vienne,  imparts  a  right  to  be  the  first  in  giving  my 
life  for  your  sakes.  I  give  it  freely ;  I  give  it  cheerfully. 
Who  comes  next  ?  " 

6.  "  Your  son !  "  exclaimed  a  youth  not  yet  come  to 
maturity. 

"Ah,  my  child!"  cried  St.  Pierre;  "I  am  then  twice 
sacrificed.  Thy  years  are  few,  but  full,  my  son.  The 
victim  of  virtue  has  reached  the  utmost  purpose  and  goal 
of  mortality !  Who  next,  my  friends  ?  This  is  the  hour  of 
heroes." 


UNION  FIFTH  READEB.  241 

7.  "  Your  kinsman  !  "  cried  John  d'Aire. 
"  Your  kinsman  I  '*  cried  James  Wissant. 
"  Your  kinsman  !  "  cried  Peter  Wissant. 

''All!"  exclaimed  Sir  Walter  Mauny,  bursting  into 
tears,  "why  was  not  Za  citizen  of  Calais?" 

8.  The  sixth  victim  was  still  wanting,  but  was  quickly 
supplied  by  lot  from  numbers  who  were  now  emulous  of  so 
ennobling  an  example.  The  keys  of  the  city  were  then 
delivered  to  Sir  Walter.  He  took  the  six  prisoners  into 
his  custody ;  then  ordered  the  gates  to  be  opened,  and  gave 
charfije  to  his  attendants  to  conduct  the  remaining^  citizens 
with  their  families  through  the  camp  of  the  English.  Be- 
fore they  departed,  however,  they  desired  permission  to 
take  the  last  adieu  of  their  deliverers.  What  a  parting ! 
what  a  scene  !  They  crowded  with  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren about  St.  Pierre  and  his  fellow-prisoners.  They 
embraced,  they  clung  around,  they  fell  prostrate  before 
them ;  they  groaned,  they  wept  aloud ;  and  the  joint 
clamor  of  their  mourning  passed  the  gates  of  the  city,  and 
was  heard  throughout  the  English  camp. 

9.  The  English,  by  this  time,  were  apprised  of  what 
passed  within  Calais.  They  heard  the  voice  of  lamenta- 
tion, and  their  souls  were  touched  with  compassion.  Each 
of  the  soldiers  prepared  a  portion  of  his  own  victuals,  to 
welcome  and  entertain  the  half-famished  inhabitants ;  and 
they  loaded  them  with  as  much  as  their  present  weakness 
w^s  able  to  bear,  in  order  to  supply  them  with  sustenance 
by  the  way.  At  length,  St.  Pierre  and  his  fellow-victims 
appeared,  under  the  conduct  of  Sir  Walter  and  a  guard. 

10.  All  the  tents  of  the  English  were  instantly  emptied. 
The  soldiers  poured  from  all  parts,  and  arranged  them- 
selves on  each  side,  to  behold,  to  contemplate,  to  admire 
this  little  band  of  patriots  as  they  passed.     They  bowed  to 

n 


242  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

them  on  all  sides ;  they  murmured  their  applause  of  that 
virtue  which  they  could  not  but  revere,  even  in  enemies  ; 
and  they  regarded  those  ropes  which  they  had  voluntarily 
assumed  about  their  necks  as  ensigns  of  greater  dignity 
than  that  of  knighthood.  As  soon  as  they  had  reached 
the  presence,  "  Mauny,"  says  the  monarch,  ''  are  these 
the  princii:>al  inhabitants  of  Calais?" 

11.  "They  are,"  says  Mauny ;  *'they  are  not  only 
the  principal  men  of  Calais,  they  are  the  ])rincipal  men 
of  France,  my  lord,  if  virtue  has  any  share  in  the  act  of 
ennoblino;." 

"Were  they  delivered  peaceably?"  asked  Edward. 
"Was  there  no  resistance,  no  commotion  among  the 
people  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,  my  lord ;  the  people  would  all  have 
perished,  rather  than  have  delivered  the  least  of  these  to 
your  majesty.  They  are  self-delivered^  self-devoted^  and 
come  to  offer  up  their  inestimable  heads  as  an  ample 
equivalent  for  the  ransom  of  thousands." 

12.  Edward  was  secretly  piqued  at  this  reply  of  Sir 
Walter ;  but  he  knew  the  privilege  of  a  British  subject, 
and  suppressed  his  resentment.  "  Experience,"  says  he, 
"  has  ever  shown  that  lenity  only  serves  to  invite  people  to 
new  crimes.  Severity,  at  times,  is  indispensably  necessary 
to  compel  subjects  to  submission  by  punishment  and  ex- 
ample. Go,"  he  cried  to  an  officer,  "lead  these  men  to 
execution ! " 

13.  At  this  instant  a  sound  of  triumph  Avas  heard 
throughout  the  camp.  The  queen  had  just  arrived  with 
a  powerful  re-enforcement  of  gallant  troops.  Sir  Walter 
Mauny  flew  to  receive  her  majesty,  and  briefly  informed 
her  of  the  particulars  respecting  the  six  victims.  As  soon 
as  she  had  been  welcomed  by  Edward  and  his  court,  she 
desired  a  private  audience. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  243 

14.  "  My  lord,"  said  she,  ''  the  question  I  am  to  enter 
upon  is  not  touching  the  hves  of  a  few  mechanics ;  it 
respects  the  honor  of  the  English  nation  ;  it  respects  the 
glory  of  my  Edward,  my  husband,  my  king.  You  think 
you  have  sentenced  six  of  your  enemies  to  death.  No,  my 
lord ;  they  have  sentenced  themselves ;  and  their  execu- 
tion would  be  the  execution  of  their  own  orders,  not  the 
orders  of  Edward.  The  stage  on  which  they  would  suffer, 
would  be  to  them  a  stage  of  honor ^  but  a  stage  of  shame  to 
Edward,  —  a  reproach  to  his  conquests,  an  indelible  dis- 
grace to  his  name. 

15.  "  Let  us  rather  disappoint  these  haughty  citizens, 
who  wish  to  invest  themselves  with  glory  at  our  expense. 
We  can  not  wholly  deprive  them  of  the  merit  of  a  sacri- 
fice so  nobly  intended ;  but  we  may  cut  them  short  of 
their  desires.  In  the  place  of  that  death,  by  which  their 
glory  would  be  consummated,  let  us  bury  them  under 
gifts;  let  us  put  them  to  confusion  with  aj)plauses.  We 
shall  thereby  defeat  them  of  that  popular  opinion  Avhich 
never  fails  to  attend  those  who  sufibr  in  the  cause  of 
virtue." 

16.  "  I  am  convinced  ;  you  have  prevailed.  Be  it  so," 
replied  Edward.  ''  Prevent  the  execution  ;  have  them 
instantly  before  us." 

They  came  ;  when  the  queen,  PhiHppa,  w^ith  an  aspect 
and  accents  diffusing  sweetness,  thus  besj)oke  them  :  — 

17.  "  Natives  of  Prance,  and  Inhabitants  of  Calais  : 
You  have  put  us  to  a  vast  expense  of  blood  and  treas- 
ure in  the  recovery  of  our  just  and  natural  inherit- 
ance ;  but  you  have  acted  up  to  the  best  of  an  erroneous 
judgment,  and  we  admire  ana  hcmor  in  you  that  valor  and 
virtue  by  which  Ave  were  so  long  kept  out  of  our  rightful 
possessions.    You  noble, you  excellent  citizens!  though  you 


244  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

were  tenfold  the  enemies  of  our  person  and  our  throne, 
\ve  can  feel  nothing  on  our  part  save  respect  and  affection 
for  you.  You  have  been  sufficiently  tested.  We  loose 
your  chains ;  we  snatch  you  from  the  scaffold ;  and  we 
thank  you  for  that  lesson  of  humiliation  which  you  teach 
Us,  when  you  show  us  that  excellence  is  not  of  blood,  of 
title,  or  of  station ;  that  virtue  gives  a  dignity  superior  to 
that  of  kings ;  and  that  those  whom  the  Almighty  informs 
with  sentiments  like  yours,  are  justly  and  eminently  raised 
above  all  human  distinctions. 

18.  "  You  are  now  free  to  depart  to  your  kinsfolk,  your 
countrymen,  to  all  those  whose  lives  and  liberties  you  have 
so  nobly  redeemed,  provided  you  refuse  not  the  tokens  of 
our  esteem.  Yet  we  would  rather  bind  you  to  ourselves 
by  every  endearing  obligation ;  and,  for  this  purpose,  we 
offer  to  you  your  choice  of  the  gifts  and  honors  that  Ed- 
ward has  to  bestow.  Rivals  for  fame,  but  always  friends 
to  virtue,  we  wish  that  England  were  entitled  to  call  you 
her  sons." 

"Ah,  my  country!"  exclaimed  Pierre,  "it  is  now  that 
I  tremble  for  you !  Edward  only  wins  our  cities  ;  but 
Philippa  conquers  our  hearts  !  " 


LESSOIT   LXYIII. 
THE  TRUE  LEGION   OF   HONOR. 

ANON. 

1.     A    GOLDEN  banner,  bright  and  beaming, 
iX      Waves  upon  a  lofty  tower  ; 
Far  and  wide  its  rays  are  streaming, 
Gathering  brightness  every  hour ; 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  245 

And  upon  it  there  is  written, 
As  in  words  of  flaming  fire,  — 
(<  )  ''  Onward,  onward,  ever  onward! 
Higlier,  higher  still  aspire  !  '* 

2.  And  around  that  glorious  standard 

Gathers  many  a  noble  kniglit, 
Men  of  every  clime  and  color. 

To  do  battle  for  the  Right. 
But  they  need  no  sword  or  buckler, 

Helmet,  lance,  or  bayonet  keen : 
No  ;  they  wield  far  mightier  weapons,  — 

Weapons  mightier,  tliougli  unseen. 

3.  Yes ;  they  are  a  band  of  heroes, 

High  in  liope,  of  valor  true, 
Warrino-  Vainst  the  world's  sad  evils,  — 

Nobler  field  than  Waterloo. 
Though  no  glitter  marks  their  conquests, 

Though  no  trumpet  sounds  their  praise, 
Worthy  they  of  liighest  honors, 

Worthy  of  immortal  lays. 

4.  Conquerors  are  they,  though  no  cities 

Are  by  them  in  ruins  laid ; 
Though  no  waiHngs  mark  their  progress, 

Smoking  piles  and  heaps  of  dead. 
Theirs  it  is  to  war  with  Error, 

Falsehood's  mask  aside  to  tear ; 
And,  where  Superstition  triumphs, 

Plant  the  flag  of  knowledge  there. 


246  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

5.  Hearts  have  they  of  highest  daring, 

Fearless,  dauntless,  true  as  steel ; 
Yet  they  melt  at  human  sorrow, 

And  the  wo^s  of  others  feel. 
The  poor,  the  needy,  and  the  outcast  — 

Brothers  still,  tliough  fallen  low  — 
Find  in  them  a  guardian  angel ; 

Tyranny,  a  mortal  foe. 

6.  Knowledge,  Freedom,  are  th^ir  war-cries ; 

Hope  for  man,  their  watchword  still ; 
And  their  arm  is  ever  active. 

Smiting  down  each  crying  ill. 
And  that  banner  waves  above  them  — 

Rich  bequest  from  sire  to  son  — 
Beacon  that  will  ever  brighten. 

Till  the  final  conquest's  won. 


LESSON"   LXIX 

CONSCIENCE. 

JAMES  LINEN. 

"Whatever  creed  be  taught,  or  land  be  trod, 
Man's  conscience  is  the  oracle  of  God." — Byron. 

lo  npELL  me,  O  Conscience!  what  thou  art, 
X   That  fires  the  brain  and  wrings  the  heart ; 
That  haunts  the  guilty  mind  with  fears, 
And  fills  the  eyes  with  bitter  tears  ; 
That  keeps  the  memory  on  the  rack 
By  bringiiig  recollections  back ; 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  247 

That  plays  with  feelings  at  thy  will, 
And  tortures  with  consummate  skill ; 
Whose  task  it  is,  by  smile  or  frown, 
To  lift  man  up,  or  drag  him  down  ; 
Whose  sting  is  keener  far  than  steel 
Which  felons  in  dark  dungeons  feel. 
The  prince  may  golden  favors  shower, 
Yet  he  is  subject  to  thy  power. 

2.  The  hero  Honor's  path  may  tread, 

And  his  great  name  world-wide  be  spread ; 
But  glory  brings  not  peace  of  mind, 
That  jewel  rare,  so  hard  to  find. 
From  tliy  dominion  none  can  flee, 
For  mortals  all  must  bow  to  thee ! 
Tell  me,  O  Conscience !  what  thou  art. 
Weird  Watchman  of  the  human  heart ! 

3.  Art  thou  the  child  of  wretched  Care, 
That  murders  Sleep  and  mocks  Despair  — 
That  fills  with  pangs  the  human  breast. 
And  robs  the  guilty  head  of  rest  — 

That  mutely  weeps  o'er  crime  untold. 
Where  Vice  buys  Virtue  with  her  gold  — 
Whose  records  by  some  mystic  hand 
Are  written  in  a  fadeless  land  ? 
Tell  me,  O  Conscience  !  what  thou  art. 
Weird  Watchman  of  the  human  heart. 

4.  The  soul  that  claims  celestial  birth, 
Finds  naught  but  tainted  joys  on  earth ; 
Imprisoned  in  a  cell  of  clay. 

That  yields  to  laws  of  swift  decay,  — 


248  SANDERS'  UNION   l&EEIES. 

The  spirit  tenant  of  the  heart 
Is  ever  yearning  ta  depart ; 
Like  some  caged  warbler  to  be  free, 
That  it  may  soar^  O  God  !  to  thee, 

5.  O  Conscience  ?  mute,  mysterious  gnest ; 
Man  fain  would  pluck  thee  from  his  breast, 
As  if  thou  wert  his  deadly  foe, 

The  only  cause  of  human  woe ; 
Could  he  but  snatch  thy  golden  crown, 
And  madly  pull  thy  temple  down. 
Dark  Vice  would  rear  her  bloody  shrines 
Where  perish  hoj)es  and  Virtue  pines ; 
Strike  but  the  brave  heart-monarch  dumb, 
.  And  earth  a  desert  would  become, 

6.  When  man  can  feel  a  conscience  clear. 
What  wrontTs  and  dancjers  need  he  fear  ? 
Calmly  at  his  departing  breath. 

It  takes  away  the  stings  of  death  ; 
It  nobly  braves  the  coward  world, 
Till  Reason  from  her  throne  be  hurled ; 
With  all  the  feelings  of  the  heart 
It  gently  plays  a  leading  part. 
In  concert  acting  with  the  soul 
When  passions  wild  brook  no  control ; 
Close  by  life's  purple  fountain  found. 
It  guards  the  spot  as  holy  ground. 
Tell  me,  O  Conscience  !  v/hat  thou  art. 
Weird  Watchman  of  the  human  heart ! 

Question.  —  Why  Jo  Care,  Sleep,  Despair,  Vice,  Virtue,  Conscience,  nnd 
Watchman,  3d  stanza,  begin  with  capitals?  Answer. — Because  they  are 
personified. 


•A 

J 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEE.  249 


LESSON   LXX. 

^By'  RON,  tlEORGE  GoRDON,  (Lord  Byron,)  was  born  in  London,  Jan,  22, 
1788  ;  and  died  April  19,  1824.  In  his  nineteenth  year,  he  commenced 
his  career  as  an  author  by  publishing  the  "  Hours  of  Idleness."  It 
was  criticised  with  great  severity  by  "The  Ediiiburgh  Review;"  to 
which  attack  he  replied  with  still  greater  severity  in  a  caustic  satire 
entitled  "English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers."  His  life  was  marked 
by  great  misfortunes,  occasioned  chiefly  by  his  own  wild  and  wanton 
conduct;  but  it  was  distinguished  by  a  series  of  poetical  productions, 
which  have  been  more  admired  and  more  condemned  than  those,  per- 
haps, of  any  other  writer,  whether  living  or  dead. 

-  New'  tox,  Sir  Isaac.     See  note,  page  94. 

^  Boyle,  Robert,  was  born  at  Lismore,  Ireland,  in  1626;  and  died  in 
London,  1691.  He  was  an  able  and  sedulous  investigator  of  Nature 
by  experiment,  and  contributed  largely  to  the  various  branches  of 
optics,  pneumatics,  natural  history,  chemistry,  and  medicine ;  pneu- 
matics probably  gaining  most  by  his  researches.  His  mind  was  essen- 
tially reverential,  and  he  wrote  largely  on  religious  topics. 

*  Locke,  John,  author  of  the  celebrated  "Essay  on  the  Human  Under- 

standing," was  born  1652;  and  died  1704.  Firmly  attached  to  the 
cause  of  toleration,  civil  and  religious,  he  scrupled  not  to  suffer  for 
either.  Human  liberty  was  the  kasis  of  his  philosophy,  and  he  practi- 
cally stood  by  it.  Few  writers  had  a  finer  sense  of  the  respect  due  to 
personal  conscience. 

•  Wil'  ber  force,  William,  a  distinguished  English  statesman  and  Chris- 

tian philanthropist,  was  born  1759;  and  died  1833.  While  a  member 
of  Parliament,  he  introduced  a  bill  for  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade, 
and  advocated  it  in  a  powerful  and  effective  speech,  which  gained  hini 
a  reputation  as  one  of  the  most  eloquent  orators  of  the  age. 

MORAL   AND   RELIGIOUS   CULTURE. 

SAT.  EVE.  POST. 

IT  has  pleased  the  beneficent  Father  of  the  universe  to 
form  man  a  rational  and  intelligent  heing^  to  endow  him 
with  faculties  of  mind  susceptible  of  the  highest  improve- 
ment, and  to  impart  to  him  a  soul  which  may  soar  far  on 
beyond  the  joys  of  earthly  happiness,  and  participate  in  the 
bliss  of  a  heavenly  immortality.     The  feelings  of  his  heart, 


250  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

purified  by  the  clear  principles  of  rhorality,  and  ennobled 
by  the  influences  of  divine  goodness,  elevate  his  nature, 
and  justly  entitle  him  to  be  ranked  among  the  proudest 
works  of  the  Creator. 

2.  But  Omniscience  has  so  constituted  him  that  his  hap- 
piness is  closely  interwoven  with  the  practice  of  the  moral 
virtues,  and  a  strict  and  undeviatino;  regard  for  the  dictates 
of  religion.  When  these  are  disregarded,  the  ties  that  bind 
his  soul  to  Heaven,  are  broken;  the  glorious  destinies  of  his 
existence  are  lost  in  the  transient  pleasures  of  earth  ;  and 
the  impress  of  divinity,  stamped  upon  his  nature,  remains 
but  a  polluted  emblem  of  his  pristine  glory,  and,  in  his 
sober  moments  of  reflection,  adds  keener  pangs  to  his 
miseries,  by  reminding  him  of  the  high  objects  for  which 
he  was  created. 

3.  Wherever  there  is  a  want  of  moral  principle^  the 
loftiest  efforts  of  the  human  intellect  degenerate  into  cold- 
ness. They  may  dazzle  the  imagination  with  their  brilliancy, 
and  perhaps  astonish  the  reason  itself  with  their  strength  and 
originality ;  but  the  heart  is  unmoved,  and  the  nobler 
and  more  exalted  feelino;s  of  our  nature  remain  unaffected. 
We  may  witness  the  most  towering  flights  of  genius;  we 
may  listen  with  delight  to  the  almost  overpowering  strains 
of  eloquence  ;  we  may  be  enchanted  with  the  soft  and 
flowing  numbers  of  heo,ven-born  music  ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  our  emotions  may  be  mingled  with  feelings  of  sadness 
and  regret,  that  the  possessors  of  these  golden  talents  are_ 
uninfluenced  by  the  mild  precepts  of  virtue,  and  throw  a 
shade  over  their  shining  qualities  by  the  vicious  and  cor- 
rupt conduct  of  their  lives.  We  may  view  with  pleasure 
too,  at  a  distance,  the  fiery  heavings  of  a  volcano  ;  but  we 
shudder  to  reflect  that  every  swelling  is  pregnant  with  the 
seeds  of  desolation,  and  buries  whole  cities  in  liquid  fire. 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  251 

4.  Who  lias  not  been  enraptured  with  the  sweet  and 
fascinating  mekxly  of  Byron  ?  ^  Who  has  not  felt  the  deep 
breathings  of  liis  mighty  genius,  and  acknowledged  the 
burning  fervor  which  inspired  his  Muse  ?  And  yet  who, 
that  bends  the  knee  of  reverence  at  the  shrine  of  Religion, 
and  endeavors  to  advance  the  great  principles  of  morality, 
does  not  intertwine  a  wreath  of  cypress  with  the  laurels 
that  encircle  his  brow,  and,  while  he  admires  the  magic 
power  of  his  poesy,  lament  that  his  harp  was  untuned  to 
nobler  themes,  and  his  sweetest  strains  were  destitute  of 
heavenly  fire  ? 

5.  The  immortal  Gibbon  has  removed  the  vail  which 
had  rested  like  a  mist  upon  the  history  of  imperial  Rome, 
and  has  scattered  the  darkness  and  doubt  which  for  suc- 
ceeding centuries  had  enveloped  the  whole  continent  of 
Europe.  His  name  will  be  remembered  as  long  as  nations 
shall  exist ;  but,  while  the  philanthropist  and  the  Christian 
shall  bestow  the  just  tribute  of  applause  upon  the  splendor 
of  his  talents  and  the  magnificence  of  his  works,  they  will 
shed  tears  of  sorrow  over  his  infidelity,  and  regret  that 
almost  every  page  of  his  history  is  stained  with  opposition 
to  the  gospel  of  Christ. 

6.  But  there  is  a  brighter  page  in  the  history  of  man. 
From  the  catalogue  of  the  distinguished. men  of  every  age, 
we  may  select  some  whose  names  are  an  ornament  to  hu- 
man nature,  and  whose  lives  have  been  devoted  to  the 
cultivation  of  the  moral  graces,  and  the  advancement  of 
social  and  religious  happiness.  Newton,'^  Boyle,^  and  Locke* 
have  enlarged  the  circle  of  the  human  mind,  and  adorned 
the  principles  of  philosophy  with  the  precepts  of  piety. 
Their  fame  is  equally  identified  with  the  progress  of 
knowledge  and  the  diffusion  of  virtue. 

7.  Others  have  emblazoned  their  names  upon  the  es- 


252  •  SANDERS'  UNION   SEEIES. 

cutcheon  of  immortality  by  some  single  act,  which  has  con- 
tributed to  alleviate  the  wretchedness  of  thousands,  or 
dissemhiated  the  seeds  of  morahty  to  the  remotest  corners 
of  the  earth.  Millions  of  the  degraded  sons  of  Africa  will 
swell  the  anthem  of  joy,  while  associations  of  the  sweets 
of  liberty  shall  remind  them  of  the  name  of  Wilberforce.'^ 
The  history  of  others  who  have  shed  a  bright  and  undying 
luster  upon  our  country,  will  call  forth  the  grateful  recol- 
lections of  unborn  generations,  so  long  as  truth  shall 
triumph  over  error,  and  the  influence  of  Christianity  be  felt 
in  removing  vice  and  superstition  from  the  hearts  of  men. 

8.  The  cultivation  of  moral  feeliiig  is  as  closely  inter- 
woven with  the  stability  of  government,  as  it  is  allied  to  the 
promotion  of  the  great  objects  of  religion.  Kemove  this 
pillar,  and  the  beautiful  fabric  of  our  freedom  falls.  Dif- 
fuse the  poison  of  immorahty  among  the  minds  of  the 
people,  and  factious  ambition  would  sway  the  councils  of 
the  nation,  or  perhaps  the  bloody  flag  of  despotism  would 
wave  over  the  ruins  of  the  fair  temple  of  our  liberties. 

9.  Rome,  so  long  as  she  resisted  the  encroachments  of 
vice,  and  maintained  a  sense  of  piety  and  devotion  among 
her  citizens,  preserved  her  political  frame  firm  and  un- 
broken. But  the  ''  fell  destroyer  "  came.  Vice  opened 
its  flood-gates  of  destruction,  and  a  thousand  streams  of 
pollution  swept  away  every  remnant  of  moral  principle. 
The  cords  of  her  o-overnment  became  relaxed,  her  laws 
were  disregarded,  and  licentiousness  and  corruption  sapped 
the  very  foundations  of  the  empire.  Rome  fell ;  and  from 
her  fall  succeeding  nations  may  learn  that  moral  principles 
are  the  supporting  pillars  of  their  political  institutions. 

10.  The  harmonious  order  which  pervades  the  natural 
creation,  beautifully  illustrates  the  importance  of  regularity 
in  the  moral  world.     The  shooting  of  the  plant,  the  unin- 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  253 

terrupted  succession  of  the  seasons,  the  regular  movement 
of  the  earth,  the  stars  of  tlie  firmament  wheeUng  tlieir 
courses  in  perfect  symmetry  through  the  boundless  fields 
of  space,  —  all  present  a  system  of  the  utmost  beauty  and 
order,  and  excite  in  our  minds  the  highest  sentiments  of 
admiration.  But  when  storms  and  tempests  ravage  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  or  the  convulsions  of  Nature  shake 
its  foundations  to  the  center,  or  when  the  terrific  comet 
traverses  its  eccentric  course,  and  threatens  the  destruction 
of  worlds,  the  minds  of  men  are  excited  with  horror,  and 
filled  with  consternation  and  awe.  In  the  same  manner, 
we  view  with  feelings  of  dread  the  wild  whirlwind  of  the 
passions,  unrestrained  by  the  mild  influences  of  virtue,  and 
uncontrolled  by  the  effects  of  a  religious  education. 

11.  The  God  of  Nature  has  raised  us  high  in  the  scale 
of  existence  ;  and  shall  we  degrade  the  dignity  of  our 
nature  by  pursuing  the  delusive  phantoms  of  sensual  pleas- 
ures, and  exchanging  the  bliss  that  flows  from  the  culti- 
vation of  moral  and  religious  feeling  for  the  debasing 
objects  of  earthly  gratification  '  ?  He  has  implanted  in  our 
souls  a  desire  of  happiness  ;  and  shall  we  exchange  the 
pure  and  unadulterated  joys  of  virtue  and  piety  for  the 
short-lived,  unsatisfying  pleasures  of  vice  and  immorality'? 
No :  reason  and  the  experience  of  ages  teach  us,  in  loud 
and  warning  accents,  that  misery  is  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence of  vice,  while  unalloyed  felicity  is  the  sure  reward 
of  virtue. 

Questions.  —  1.  What  inflection  at  the  questions,  4th  paragraph?  Seo 
liiile  II.,  page  29.  2.  Wliy  the  rising  inflection  at  the  questions,  llth  para- 
graph ?  See  Rule  I.,  page  28.  3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  prefix  inters 
in  the  words  intertioinc,  Interiroron,  and  unintcniipfed,  4th,  8th,  and  10th  para- 
graphs ?  See  Sanders'  Union  Speller,  Exercise  434,  page  136.  4.  What  is 
the  use  of  the  hyphen  in  the  wovfX  Jiood-gates,  9th  paragraph?  See  Union 
Speller,  page  170. 


254  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 


LESSON   LXXI. 

*  Dead  Sba  Apples,  or  Apples  of  Sodom,  —  a  fruit  of  fair  appearance, 
but  dissolving  into  smoke  and  ashes  when  phicked.  It  resembles  an 
orange  in  size  and  color;  but  the  taste  is  bitter.  — Deut.  xxxii.  32. 

DESIRE    AND  MEANS    OF    HAPPINESS. 

HOUACK  MANN. 

IT  is  a  law  of  our  nature  to  desire  happiness.  This  law 
is  not  local,  but  universal ;  not  temporary,  but  eternal. 
It  is  not  a  law  to  be  proved  by  exceptions  ;  for  it  knows  no 
exception.  The  savage  and  the  martyr  welcome  fierce 
pains,  not  because  they  love  pain,  but  because  they  love 
some  expected  remuneration  of  happiness  so  well,  that 
they  are  willing  to  purchase  it  at  the  price  of  pain, — at  the 
price  of  imprisonment,  torture,  and  death. 

2.  The  young  desire  happiness,  more  keenly  than  any 
others.  This  desire  is  innate,  spontaneous,  exuberant;  and 
nothing  but  repeated  and  repeated  overflows  of  the  lava  of 
disappointment  can  burn  or  bury  it  in  their  breasts.  On 
this  law  of  our  nature,  then,  we  may  stand  as  on  an  im- 
movable foundation  of  truth.  Whatever  fortune  may 
befall  our  argument,  our  premises  are  secure. 

3.  The  conscious  desire  of  happiness  is  active  in  all  men. 
Its  objects  are  easily  conceivable  by  all  men.  But,  alas  ! 
toward  what  different  points  of  the  moral  compass  do  men 
look  for  these  objects,  and  expect  to  find  them !  Some 
look  for  happiness  above,  and  some  below ;  some  in  the 
grandeur  of  the  soul,  and  some  in  the  grossness  of  the 
sense.  Wherever  it  is  looked  for,  the  imagination  adorns 
it  with  all  its  glowing  colors. 

4.  Multitudes  of  those  who  seek  for  happiness,  will  not 
obtain  the  object  of  their  search,  because  they  seek  amiss. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  255 

Deceived  by  false  ideas  of  its  nature,  other  multitudes,  who 
obtain  the  object  of  their  search,  will  find  it  to  be  sorrow, 
and  not  joy;  Dead  Sea  apples,^  and  not  celestial  fruits. 
Whether  a  young  man  shall  reap  pleasure  or  pain  from 
winning  the  objects  of  his  choice,  depends  not  only  upon 
his  wisdom  or  folly  in  selecting  those  objects,  but  upon  the 
right  or  wrong  methods  by  which  he  pursues  them.  Noth- 
ing is  more  certain  than  that  the  range  and  possibility  of 
happiness  which  God  has  provided,  and  placed  within  reach 
of  us  all,  is  still  vaster  than  the  desire  of  it  in  any  and  in 
all  of  His  creatures. 

5.  We  are  finite,  and  can  receive  only  in  finite  quan- 
tities ;  He  is  infinite,  and  gives  in  infinite  quantities.  Look 
outwardly,  and  behold  the  variety  and  redundancy  of  means 
which  the  Creator  has  prepared  to  meet  and  to  satisfy  all 
the  rational  wants  of  His  children.  So  ample  and  multi- 
tudinous are  the  gifts  of  God,  that  He  needed  an  immen- 
sity of  space  for  their  storehouse  ;  and  so  various  are  they, 
and  ascending  one  above  another  in  their  adaptation  to  our 
capacities  of  enjoyment,  that  we  need  an  eternity  to  set 
out  the  banquet. 

6.  See  how  the  means  of  sustenance  and  comfort  are 
distributed  and  diversified  througliout  the  earth  !  There 
is  not  a  mood  of  body,  from  the  wantonness  of  health  to 
the  languor  of  the  death-bed,  for  which  the  alchemy  of 
Nature  does  not  proffer  some  luxury  to  stimulate  our  pleas- 
ures, or  her  pharmacy  some  catholicon  to  assuage  our  pains. 
What  texture  for  clothing,  from  the  gossamer  thread  which 
the  silkworm  weaves,  to  the  silk-like  furs  which  the  winds 
of  Zembla  can  not  penetrate !  As  materials  from  which 
to  construct  our  dwellings,  what  Quincys  and  New  Hamp- 
shires  of  granite,  what  Alleghanies  of  oak,  and  what  for- 
ests of  pine  belting  the  continent !  What  coal-fields  to 
supply  the  lost  warmth  of  the  receding  sun  ! 


256  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

7.  Notwithstanding  tlie  beautiful  adaptation  of  the  physi- 
cal world  to  our  needs,  yet,  when  we  leave  the  regions  of 
sense  and  of  sensuous  things,  and  ascend  to  the  sphere  of 
the  intellect,  we  find  that  all  which  had  ever  delighted  us 
before,  becomes  poor  and  somber  in  the  presence  of  the 
brighter  glories  that  burst  upon  our  view.  Here  fresh  and 
illimitable  fields  open  upon  us;  and,  corresponding  with  the 
new  objects  presented,  a  group  of  new  faculties  to  explore 
and  enjoy  them,  is  awakened  within  us. 

8.  The  outward  eye  sees  outward  things,  and  the  outside 
of  things  only  ;  but  the  inward  eye  is  emanci})ated  from 
the  bonds  that  bind  its  brother.  The  great  panorama  of 
the  universe  limits  and  bounds  the  outward  organs  that 
behold  it ;  gives  them  all  they  can  ask ;  fills  them  with  all 
they  can  receive.  Splendid  and  majestic  as  are  the  heav- 
ens and  the  earth  to  the  natural  eye,  yet  they  are  solid, 
opaque,  impervious.  But  to  the  subtle  and  pervading 
intellect,  this  solid  framework  of  the  universe  becomes 
transparent ;  its  densest  and  darkest  textures,  crystalline. 
To  the  intellect,  each  interior  fiber  and  atom  of  things  is 
luminous. 

9.  To  the  intellect  of  man  all  recesses  are  opened,  all 
secrets  revealed.  Sunlight  glows  where  darkness  gloomed. 
To  this  power,  no  hight  is  inaccessible,  no  depth  unfath- 
omable, no  distance  imtraversable.  It  has  the  freedom  of 
the  universe.  It  can  not  be  swallowed  up  in  the  waters 
of  the  sea  ;  it  can  not  be  crushed  by  the  weight  of  the 
earth  ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  the  fiery  furnace,  One,  whose 
form  is  like  the  Son  of  God,  Avalks  by  its  side. 

10-  So,  too,  all  created  things  are  governed  by  laws, 
each  by  its  ow^n.  These  laws  the  intellect  of  man  can 
discover  and  understand,  and  thus  make  his  dominion  co- 
extensive with  his  knowledge.     So  far  as  we  understand 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  257 

these  laws,  we  can  bring  all  substajices  that  are  governed 
by  them  under  their  action,  and  thus  produce  the  results 
we  desire,  just  as  the  cohier  subjects  his  gold-dust  to  the 
process  of  minting,  and  brings  out  eagles. 

11.  So  far  as  we  understand  the  Creator's  laws.  He  in- 
vests us  with  His  power.  When  knowledge  enables  me  to 
speak  with  the  flaming  tongue  of  lightning  across  the  con- 
tinent, is  it  not  the  same  as  though  I  had  power  to  call 
down  the  swiftest  an^el  from  Heaven,  and  send  him  abroad 
as  the  messenger  of  my  thoughts'  ?  When  a  knowledge  of 
astronomy  and  navigation  enables  me  to  leave  a  port  on 
this  side  of  the  globe,  and  thread  my  labyrinthine  way 
among  contrary  winds,  and  through  the  currents  and 
counter-currents  of  the  ocean,  and  to  strike  any  pml  I 
please  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  globe,  is  it  not  the  same 
as  though  God  for  this  purpose  had  endued  me  with  His 
all-seeing  vision,  and  enabled  me  to  look  through  clouds 
and  darkness  around  the  convex  earth'  ? 

12.  Nor  does  the  intellect  stop  with  the  knowledge  of 
physical  laws.  All  the  nafural  attributes  of  the  Author 
of  those  laws  are  its  highest  and  noblest  study.  Its  contem- 
plations and  its  discoveries  rise  from  the  spirit  that  dwelleth 
in  a  beast  to  the  spirit  that  dwelleth  in  a  man,  and  from 
this  to  the  Spirit  that  dwelleth  in  the  heavens.  Every 
acquisition  of  knowledge  also,  which  the  intellect  can 
make,  assimilates  the  creature  to  the  all-knowing  Cre- 
ator. It  traces  another  line  on  the  countenance  of  the 
yet  ignorant  child,  by  which  he  more  nearly  resembles 
the  omniscient  Father.  The  human  soul  is  desire  ;  the 
works  and  wisdom  of  God  are  a  fountain  of  supply.  If 
the  soul  of  man  is  a  void  at  birth,  it  is  a  void  so  capacious, 
that  the  universe  may  be  transfused  into  it. 

17 


258  SAKDEES'  UNION  SERIES. 


LESSON   LXXII. 

'  Gu'  TEN  BERG,  JoHN,  was  born  in  1400,  near  Mentz,  in  Germany;  and 
died  in  1468.  He  is  supposed  to  have  made  his  first  experiment  in  the 
art  of  printing  with  movable  types  between  1434  and  1439  ;  but  it  was 
in  1443  that  he  turned  his  great  invention  to  account,  and  brought 
upon  himself  great  persecution.  There  are  some  points  not  cleared  up 
in  the  history  of  this  invention ;  but  it  is  now  generally  agreed  that 
the  honor  belongs  to  John  Gutenberg.  A  beautiful  statue  has  been 
erected  to  his  memory. 

THE  INVENTION   OF  PRINTING. 

OSBORNE. 

John  Gutenbeug.— Rupert,  a  Usurer, 

Rupert.  Friend  John,  what's  wanted  now  ?   Ah !  I  can 
guess.     'Tis  the  old  story,  —  money  ! 

John.  Master  Rupert, 

I  bring  your- good  security. 

Rup.  What's  this  ? 

A  family  ring,  —  solid,  and  set  with  diamonds! 

John.  Let  me  have  fifty  florins  *  on  the  pledge. 

Rup.  That's  twenty  more  than  I  can  well  afford ; 
But  you  shall  have  the  money. 

John.  Recollect, 

I  shall  redeem  the  ring ! 

Rap.  When,  John  ? 

Jolm.  As  soon 

As  I  have  perfected  my  great  invention. 

Rap.  Ah  !  John,  that  great  invention,  much  I  fear, 
Will  come  to  naught.     Take  to  some  honest  trade ; 
Leave  dreaming  o'er  thy  scheme  of  movable  types 
For  multiplying  copies  of  a  book. 

*  Flor'in,  a  silver  coin  varying  in  value  from  twenty-three  to  fifty-four 
cents. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  259 

Shouldst  thou  succeed,  the  copyists,  who  now 
Derive  their  living  from  their  manuscripts, 
Will  persecute  thee,  —  make  it  out  (who  knows?) 
That  thou  hast  dealt  in  magic. 

John.  Let  them  murmur  I 

Think,  Master  Rupert,  of  the  good  locked  up 
In  this  invention.     Look  upon  this  book  : 
It  is  the  book  of  books,  the  Bible.     Know'st  thou 
How  long  it  takes  a  writer  to  complete 
A  copy  such  as  this  ? 

Rap.  A  year,  perhaps. 

John.  As  long  as  that !     Now,  by  this  plan  of  mine, 
After  the  types  are  set,  ten  thousand  copies 
Might  be  struck  off,  and  by  a  single  man. 
Within  less  time  than  now  is  given  to  make 
A  single  copy. 

Riip,  John,  thy  wits  are  wandering. 

Tlu)u  art  but  a  dreamer. 

JoJm.  I  can  make  it  plain 

To  any  mechanician,  what  I  say 
Is  but  the  sober  truth.     Ay,  Master  Rupert, 
The  day  will  come  when  this  same  book,  which  now 
Few  men  are  rich  enough  to  own,  will  be 
So  multiplied  and  cheap,  that  every  peasant 
Can  own  it,  if  he  chooses. 

Rup.  John,  go  home  ; 

Tell  thy  good  wife  to  put  thee  straight  to  bed, 
And  send  for  a  physician.     I  shall  hear 
Of  a  brain-fever  next. 

John.  The  day  will  come. 

I  may  not  live  to  see  it ;  after  years 
Of  penury  and  struggle,  I  may  fall 
Into  the  gi'ave  unnoticed :  but  the  spark 


260  SANDEES'  UNION  SEKIES. 

Kindled  by  me  shall  grow  to  be  a  Jight 

Unto  the  nations  ;  and  religion,  freedom, 

Science,  and  education,  all  shall  date 

An  gpoch  from  the  day  when  Jiere^  in  Mentz, 

i,  poor  John  Gutenberg,  the  small  mechanic, 

Produced  my  movable  types,  but  could  not  win. 

From  rich  or  learned,  words  of  cheer  or  help. 

Rap.  'Tis  for  posterity  thou  art  laboring,  then  ! 
Now  listen  to  a  word  of  common  sense  : 
Posterity  will  nothing  do  for  thee. 
Posterity  will  put  upon  thy  back 
No  coat  to  shield  thee  from  the  winter's  cold. 
Posterity  will  give  no  single  meal, 
Though  thou  wert  starving.     Why  shouldst  thou  then, 

John, 
Labor  for  such  an  ingrate  as  this  same 
Vain,  unrequiting  herd,  — posterity  f 

John,  The  noble  giver  finds  his  solace  in 
The  act  of  giving, —  in  the  consciousness 
He  has  conferred  upon  his  fellow-men 
A  certain  blessing.     Should  requital  come, 
'Twill  be,  like  all  good  things,  acceptable : 
But  not  for  that,  not  even  for  gratitude. 
Did  he  confer  his  boon  ;  and  so  he  quails  not, 
Should  disappointment  and  ingratitude 
Pursue  him  to  the  grave. 

Rap.  John,  thou  art  a  riddle. 
Where,  then,  is  thy  reward  for  all  thy  pains  ? 

John.  My  friend,  the  little  good  that  we  can  do, 
In  our  sliort  sojourn  here,  will  not  alone 
Shed  comfort  on  this  transitory  life. 
But  be  (such  is  my  faith)  a  joy  hereafter. 


XTNION  FIFTH  READER.  '  261 

LESSON   LXXIII. 
THE  THREE   VOICES. 

ANON. 

1.  "TTTHAT  salth  the  Past  to  tliee  ?     Weep  ! 

T  V      Truth  is  departed  ;  , 

Beauty  hath  died  like  the  dream  of  a  sleep ; 

Love  is  faint-hearted ; 
Trifles  of  sense,  the  profoundly  unreal, 
Scare  from  our  spirits  God's  holy  ideal : 
So,  as  a  funeral  bell,  slowly  and  deep, 
So  tolls  the  Past  to  thee  !     Weep  ! 


2.  How  speaks  the  Present  hour  ?     Act  ! 

Walk  upward  glancing ; 
So  shall  thy  footsteps  in  glory  be  traced, 

Slow%  but  advancing. 
Scorn  not  the  smallness  of  daily  endeavor, 
Let  the  g-reat  meaninoj  ennoble  it  ever ; 

Droop  not  o'er  efforts  expended  in  vain ; 

Work^  as  believing  that  labor  is  gain. 

3.  What  doth  the  Future  say  ?     Hope  ! 

Turn  the  face  sunward  ; 
Look  where  the  light  fringes  the  far-rising  slope  ; 

Day  cometh  onward. 
Watch  !  though  so  long  be  the  daylight  delaying, 
Let  the  first  sunbeam  arise  on  thee  praying ; 

Fear  not,  for  greater  is  God  by  thy  side 

Than  armies  of  Error  against  thee  allied. 


262  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

LESSON   LXXIV. 
ACTION   OF   CLIMATE   UPON  MAN. 

PROF.  ARNOLD    GUYOT. 

SINCE  man  is  made  to  acquire  the  full  possession  and 
mastery  of  his  faculties  by  toil,  and  by  the  exercise  of 
nil  his  energies,  no  climate  could  so  well  minister  to  his 
progress  in  this  work  as  the  climate  of  the  temperate  re- 
gions. Excessive  heat  enfeebles  man ;  it  invites  to  repose 
and  inaction.  In  the  tropical  regions,  the  power  of  life 
in  nature  is  carried  to  its  highest  degree :  thus,'  with  the 
tropical  man,  the  life  of  the  body  overmasters  that  of  the 
soul ;  the  physical  instincts  of  our  nature  eclipse  those  of 
the  higher  faculties ;  passion  predominates  over  intellect 
and  reason,  the  passive  faculties  over  the  active  faculties. 

2.  Nature,  too  rich,  too  prodigal  of  her  gifts,  does  not 
compel  man  to  wrest  from  her  his  daily  bread  by  his  daily 
toil.  A  regular  climate,  and  the  absence  of  a  dormant 
season,  render  forethought  of  little  use  to  him.  Nothing 
invites  him  to  that  struggle  of  intelligence  against  Nature, 
which  raises  the  powers  of  man  to  their  highest  pitch. 
Thus  he  never  dreams  of  resisting  physical  Nature  ;  he  is 
conquered  by  her ;  he  submits  to  the  yoke,  and  becomes 
again  the  animal  man,  in  proportion  as  he  abandons  him- 
self to  external  influences,  forgetful  of  his  high  moral 
destination. 

3.  In  the  temperate  climates^  all  is  activity  and  move- 
ment. Tlie  alternations  of  heat  and  cofd,  the  changes  of 
the  seasons,  a  fresher  and  more  bracing  air,  incite  man  tc 
a  constant  struggle,  to  forethought,  and  to  the  vigorous 
employment  of  all  his  faculties.  A  more  economical  Na- 
ture yields  nothing,  except  to  the  sweat  of  his  brow :  every 
gift  on  her  part  is  a  recompense  for  effort  on  his. 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  ,  263 

4.  Nature  here,  even  while  challenging  man  to  the  con- 
flict, gives  him  the  hope  of  victory ;  and,  if  she  does  not 
show  herself  prodigal,  she  grants  to  his  active  and  intelli- 
gent labor  more  than  his  necessities  require  :  while  she 
calls  out  his  energy,  she  thus  gives  him  ease  and  leisure, 
which  permit  him  to  cultivate  all  the  lofty  faculties  of  his 
higher  nature.  Here  physical  Nature  is  not  a  tyrant,  but 
a  useful  helper ;  the  active  faculties,  the  understanding  and 
the  reason,  rule  over  the  instincts  and  the  passive  faculties ; 
the  soul,  over  the  body ;  man,  over  Nature. 

5.  In  the  frozen  regions^  man  also  contends  with  Nature, 
but  it  is  with  a  niggardly  and  severe  Nature  ;  it  is  a  des- 
perate struggle,  —  a  struggle  for  life.  With  difficulty,  by 
force  of  toil,  he  succeeds  in  providing  for  himself  a  misera- 
ble support,  which  saves  him  from  dying  of  hunger  and 
hardship,  during  the  long  and  tedious  winters  of  that 
climate.  High  culture,  therefore,  is  not  possible  under 
such  unfavorable  conditions. 

6.  The  man  of  the  tropical  regions  is  the  son  of  a  wealthy 
house.  In  the  midst  of  the  abundance  which  surrounds 
him,  labor  too  often  seems  to  him  useless ;  to  abandon 
himself  to  his  inclinations  is  more  easy  and  agreeable.  A 
slave  of  his  passions,  an  unfaithful  servant,  he  leaves  un- 
cultivated and  unused  the  faculties  with  which  God  has 
endowed  him.  The  man  of  the  polar  regions  is  the  beg- 
gar overwhelmed  with  suffering,  who,  too  happy  if  he  can 
but  gain  his  daily  bread,  has  no  leisure  to  think  of  any 
thinor  more  exalted. 

7.  The  man  of  the  temperate  regions^  finally,  is  the  man 
born  in  ease,  in  the  golden  mean,  which  is  the  most  favored 
of  all  conditions.  Invited  to  labor  by  every  thing  aroui^d 
him,  he  soon  finds,  in  the  exercise  of  all  his  faculties,  at 
once  progress  and  well-being.      Thus,  if  the  tropical  re- 


264  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

gions  have  the  wealth  of  nature,  the  temperate  regions  are 
the  most  perfectly  organized  for  the  development  of  man. 
They  are  opposed  to  each  other,  as  the  body  and  the  soul, 
as  the  inferior  races  and  the  superior  races,  as  savage  man 
and  civilized  man,  as  nature  and  history.  Of  this  con- 
trast, so  marked  as  it  is,  the  history  of  human  societies 
will  give  us  the  solution,  or,  at  least,  will  enable  us  to 
obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  truth. 


LESSON   LXXY, 
THE  WONDERS   OF   CIVILIZATION. 

ARNOTT. 

THE  condition  of  the  present  inhabitants  of  this  country 
is  very  different  from  that  of  their  forefathers.  These, 
generally  divided  into  small  states  or  societies,  had  few 
relations  of  amity  with  surrounding  tribes,  and  their 
thoughts  and  interests  were  confined  very  much  within 
their  own  little  territories  and  rude  habits.  Now,  how- 
ever, every  one  sees  himself  a  member  of  one  vast  civil- 
ized society  which  covers  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  no 
part  of  the  earth  is  indifferent  to  him. 

2.  A  man  of  small  fortune  may  cast  his  regards  around 
him,  and  say,  with  truth  and  exultation,  —  "I  am  lodged 
in  a  house  that  affords  me  conveniences  and  comforts, 
which  even  a  king  could  not  command  some  centuries 
ago.  There  are  ships  crossing  the  seas  in  every  direction, 
to  bring  what  is  useful  to  me  from  all  parts  of  the  earth. 
In  China,  men  are  gathering  the  tea-leaf;  in  America, 
they  are  planting  cotton  ;  in  the  West-India  Islands,  they 
a^e  preparing  sugar  and  coffee ;  in  Italy,  they  are  feed- 
ing silk-worms ;  in  Saxony,  they  are  shearing  the  sheep 
to  make   clothing;   at  home,  powerful  steam-engines  are 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  266 

spinning  and  weaving,  and  making  cutlery,  and  pumping 
the  mines,  that  materials  useftil  to  me  may  be  procured. 

3.  "  My  patrimony  is  small :  yet  I  have  carriages  run- 
ning day  and  night  on  all  the  roads,  to  carry  my  corre- 
spondence ;  I  have  roads,  and  canals,  and  bridges,  to  bear 
the  coal  for  my  winter  fire ;  nay,  I  have  protecting  fleets 
and  armies  around  my  bappy  country,  to  secure  my  enjoy- 
ment and  repose.  Then  I  have  editors  and  printers,  who 
daily  send  me  an  account  of  what  is  going  on  throughout 
the  world,  among  all  these  people  who  serve  me ;  and,  in 
a  corner  of  my  house,  I  have  hooks^  the  miracle  of  all  my 
possessions  ;  for  they  transport  me  instantly,  not  only  to  all 
places,  but  to  all  times. 

4.  "By  my  books  I -can  conjure  up  before  me,  to  vivid 
existence,  all  the  great  and  good  men  of  antiquity ;  and, 
for  my  individual  satisfaction,  I  can  make  them  act  over 
again  the  most  renowned  of  their  exploits :  the  orators  de- 
claim for  me  ;  the  historians  recite  ;  the  poets  sing  ;  —  in  a 
word,  from  the  equator  to  the  pole,  and  from  the  beginning 
of  time  until  now,  by  my  books  I  can  be  where  I  please." 
This  picture  is  not  overcharged,  and  might  be  much  ex- 
tended,—  such  being  the  miracle  of  God's  goodness  in 
providence,  that  each  individual  of  the  civilized  millions 
that  cover  the  earth,  may  have  nearly  the  same  enjoy- 
ments as  if  he  were  the  single  lord  of  all. 


LESSON    LXXVI. 

THE   LOVE   OF   TRUTH. 

HE  future^  with  its  vastness,  its  infinitude,  —  so  distant, 
so  beyond  our  power, — grows  out  of  the  use  you  make 
of  the  present^  so  small,  so  near,  so  completely  at  your 

12 


T 


266  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

disposal.  Reality  borrows  from  futurity,  from  eternity. 
Germs  are  the  only  realities ;  possibilities  are  the  only  cer- 
tainties. What  is  a  seed  ?  It  is  the  future  harvest.  Wliat 
is  the  present  hour  ?  It  is  the  future  age,  —  a  destiny  of 
happiness  or  misery.  What  is  this  field  before  you  ?  It  is 
all  that  you  can  make  of  it  by  industry,  by  effort,  by  vigi- 
lance, by  enterprise. 

2.  While  I  note  this  truth,  I  stand  before  a  landscape, 
the  grand  prominent  feature  of  which,  toward  the  south- 
east, is  a  lofty  expanse  of  land  called  Folly  Hill.  Fifty 
years  ago,  if  any  man  had  planted  it  with  oak  trees,  or 
walnut,  or  pine,  or  all  together,  at  a  cost  of  a  few  dollars, 
it  would  to-day  have  been  worth  as  many  thousands ; 
whereas  it  is  all  covered  with  worthless  trees,  the  growth 
of  Nature's  chance. 

3.  A  man  built  a  house  on  the  summit,  which  was  blown 
down  in  a  great  tempest ;  and  hence  the  place  was  named 
Folly  Hill.  That  was  an  external  structure^  not  character  ; 
but  those  broad  acres  might  have  been  covered  with  broad, 
rich  forests,  had  the  man  spent  a  twentieth  part  of  the 
money  he  put  into  that  house,  in  planting  for  posterity. 
And  so  with  moral  planting^  so  with  principles.  They 
make  no  show  when  you  are  setting  them  out,  perhaps, 
in  the  seed.  Men  see  not,  know  not,  when  it  is  done, 
nor  when,  nor  how,  the  seeds  are  germinating  ;  but  they 
create  anew  the  whole  being, —  they  transfigure  it,  they 
enrich  it  to  all  future  time. 

4.  When  the  heart  comes  in  magnetic  power  and  sym- 
pathetic glow  to  the  great  ideas  of  immortality  and  personal 
responsibility^  then  great  truths  enter  in  and  combine  pow- 
erfully with  the  emotional  and  intellectual  being.  The 
bright  ideal  that  the  soul  ardently  desires  and  seeks  after, 
embraces  the  offer,  and  they  become  united  in  the  indissolu' 


UNION  FIFTH  READEB.  267 

ble  bonds  of  sympathy  and  love.  But  let  that  season  of 
sympathy  and  impressibleness  pass  away,  and  the  creative 
vitality  is  gone  with  it. 

5.  When  the  mind,  the  memory,  the  heart,  are  vital  with 
moral  magnetism,  they  will  select  and  hold  fast  anvd  re- 
produce the  most  precious  thoughts,  just  as  a  steel  magnet 
will  catch  and  hold  iron  chips  and  filings,  if  you  have  pre- 
pared it  for  action  with  magnetic  forces ;  but  otherwise  it 
will  attract  nothing.  Just  so  with  the  mind  and  heart,  — 
magnetized,  ardent,  when  held  toward  great  vital  truths, 
>vliicli,  radiating  through  the  mind,  fill  it  with  light,  like 
magnets  covered  with  sparkling  diamonds  and  gold-dust. 


LESSON   LXXYIL 
ASPIRATIONS    OF    YOUTH. 

OEORGK  WILLIAM  CUKTI3. 

DAY  by  day,  wherever  our  homes  may  be  in  this  great 
land,  we  have  watched  the  passing  pageant  of  the 
year.  Day  by  day,  from  the  first  quick  flush  of  April, 
through  the  deeper  green  and  richer  bloom  of  May  and 
June,  we  have  seen  the  advancing  season  develop  and  in- 
crease, until,  at  last,  among  roses  and  golden  grain,  the 
year  stood  perfect,  in  midsummer  splendor. 

2.  As  you  have  contemplated  the  brief  glory  of  our 
summer,  where  the  clover  almost  blooms  out  of  snow-drifts, 
and  the  red  apples  drop  almost  with  the  white  blossoms, 
you  have,  perhaps,  remembered  that  the  flower  upon  the 
tree  was  only  the  ornament  of  a  moment, —  a  brilliant  part 
of  the  process  by  which  the  fruit  was  formed,  —  and  that 


268  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

the  perfect  fruit  itself  was  but  the  seed-vessel,  by  which 
the  race  of  the  tree  is  continued  from  year  to  year. 

3.  Then  have  you  followed  the  exquisite  analogy,  that 
youth  is  the  aromatic  flower  upon  the  tree ;  the  grave  life 
of  maturer  years,  its  sober,  solid  fruit ;  and  the  principles 
and  character  deposited  by  that  life,  the  seeds  by  which  the 
glory  of  this  race  also  is  per]3etuated'  ? 

4.  I  know  the  flower  in  your  hand  fades  while  you  look 
at  it.  The  dream  that  alhires  you,  glimmers  and  is  gone. 
But  flower  and  dream,  like  youth  itself,  are  buds  and 
prophecies.  For  where,  without  the  perfumed  blossoming 
of  the  spring  orchards  all  over  the  hills  and  among  all  the 
valleys  of  New  England  and  New  York,  would  the  happy 
harvests  of  New  York  and  New  England  be  ?  And  where, 
without  the  dreams  of  the  young  men  lighting  the  future 
with  human  possibility,  would  be  the  deeds  of  the  old  men, 
dignifying  the  past  with  human  achievement  ?  How  deeply 
does  it  become  us  to  believe  this,  who  are  not  only  young 
ourselves,  but  living  with  the  youth  of  the  youngest  nation 
in  history !  ,      ' 

5.  I  congratulate  you  that  you  are  young ;  I  congratu- 
late you  that  you  are  Americans.  Like  you,  that  country 
is  in  its  flower,  not  yet  in  its  fruit ;  and  that  flower  is  sub- 
ject to  a  thousand  chances  before  the  fruit  is  set.  Worms 
may  destroy  it ;  frosts  may  wither  it ;  fires  may  blight  it ; 
gusts  may  whirl  it  away.  But  how  gorgeously  it  still 
hangs  blossoming  in  the  garden  of  time,  while  its  pene- 
trating perfume  floats  all  round  the  world,  and  intoxicates 
all  other  nations  with  the  hope  of  liberty  ! 

6.  Knowing  that  the  life  of  every  nation,  as  of  each 
individual,  is  a  battle,  let  us  remember,  also,  that  the 
battle  is  to  those  who  fight  with  faith  and  undespairing  de- 
votion.    Knowing  that  nothing  is  worth  fighting  for  at 


UNION  FIFTH   READER.  269 

all,  unless  God  reigns,  let  us,  at  least,  believe  as  much 
in  the  goodness  of  God  as  we  do  in  tlie  dexterity  of  the 
devil.*  And,  viewing  this  prodigious  spectacle  of  our 
country — tliis  hope  of  humanity,  this  Young  America  — 
our  America  —  taking  the  sun  full  in  its  front,  and  making 
for  the  future,  as  boldly  and  blithely  as  the  young  David 
for  Goliath,  let  us  believe  with  all  our  hearts ;  and  from 
that  faith  shall  spring^the  fact,  that  David,  and  not  Goliath, 
is  to  win  the  day,  and  that,  out  of  the  high-hearted  dreams 
of  wise  and  good  men  about  our  country.  Time,  however 
invisibly  and  inscrutably,  is,  at  this  moment,  slowly  hewing 
the  most  colossal  and  resplendent  result  in  history. 


LESSOISr    LXXVIII. 
THE    GRAVE    OF    THE    YEAR. 

G.  A.  GAMAGE. 

In  reading  the  following  stanzas,  be  careful  to  avoid  a  sing-song  tone. 
The  voice  should  be  pitched  on  the  middle  kej,  and  the  piece  read  in  a 
slow,  pathetic  manner. 

I. 

BE  composed,  every  toil  and  each  turbulent  motion 
That  encircles  the  heart  in  life's  treacherous  snares ; 
And  the  hour  tliat  invites  to  the  calm  of  devotion. 
Undisturbed  by  regrets,  unencumbered  by  cares. 
How  cheerless  the  late  blooming  face  of  creation  ! 
Weary  Time  seems  to  pause  in  his  rapid  career. 
And,  fatigued  with  the  work  of  his  own  desolation. 
Looks  behind,  with  a  smile,  on  the  grave  of  the  Year ! 

*  See  1  Peter,  5th  chap.,  8th  verse. 


270  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

II. 

Hark !  the  wind  whistles  rudely ;  the  shadows  are  closhig, 

Which  inwrap  his  broad  path  in  the  mantle  of  night ; 
While  Pleasure's  gay  sons  are  in  quiet  reposing, 

Undisturbed   by   the  wrecks    that   have  numbered  his 
flight. 
In  yon  temple,  where  Fashion's  bright  tapers  are  lighted. 

Her  votaries,  in  crowds,  decked  with  garlands,  appear. 
And — as  yet  their  warm  hopes  by  no  specter  affrighted — - 

Assemble  to  dance  round  the  grave  of  the  Year  ! 

III. 

0  !  I  hate  the  false  cup  that  the  idlers  have  tasted, 
When  I  think  on  the  ills  of  life's  comfortless  day ; 

How  the  flowers  of  my  childhood  their  odor  have  wasted, 
And  the  friends  of  my  youth  have  been  stolen  away : 

1  think  not  how  fruitless  the  warmest  endeavor 

To  recall  the  kind  moments,  neglected  when  near, 
When  the  hours  that  Oblivion  has  canceled  forever 
Are  interred  by  her  hand  in  the  grave  of  the  Year ! 


IV. 

Since  the  last  solemn  reign  of  this  day  of  reflection. 

What  throngs  have  relinquished  life's  perishing  breath ! 
How  many  have  shed  the  sad  tear  of  dejection. 

And  closed  the  dim  eye  in  the  darkness  of  death  ! 
How  many  have  sudden  their  pilgrimage  ended, 

Beneath  the  lone  pall  that  envelops  the  bier  ! 
Or  to  Death's  lonely  valley  have  gently  descended. 

And  made  their  cold  beds  with  the  grave  of  the  Year ! 


UNION   FIFTH  KEADER.  271 

V. 

'Tis  the  Year  that,  so  late  its  new  beauty  disclosing, 

Rose  briglit  on  the  happy,  the  careless,  and  gay, 
Who  now  on  their  pillows  of  dust  are  reposing, 

While  the  sod  presses  damp  on  their  bosoms  of  clay  I 
Then  think  not  of  bliss,  when  its  smile  is  expiring, — 

Disappointment  still  drowns  it  in  misery's  tear ; 
Reflect,  and  be  wise,  —  for  the  day  is  retiring, 

And  TO-MORROW  will  dawn  on  the  grave  of  the  Year ! 

VI. 

Yet  awhile,  and  no  seasons  around  us  siiall  flourish, 

But  Silence  for  each  her  dark  mansion  prepare, 
Where  Beauty  no  longer  her  roses  shall  nourish, 

Or  the  lily  overspread  the  wan  cheek  of  Despair ! 
But  the  eye  shall  with  luster  unfading  be  brightened, 

When  it  wakens  to  bliss  in  yon  orient  sphere, 
By  the  sunbeams  of  splendor  immortal  enlightened. 

Which  no  more  shall  go  down  on  tlie  grave  of  the 
Year! 


LESSON    LXXIX. 
ANOTHER   YEAR. 

1.     A  NOTHER  year,  another  year, 

IJL       Has  borne  its  record  to  the  skies ; 
Another  year,  another  year. 

Untried,  unproved,  before  us  lies  ; 
We  hail  with  smiles  its  dawning  ray, — 
How  shall  we  meet  its  final  day  ? 


272  SANDEliS'  UNION   SERIES. 

2.  Another  year !  another  year  ! 

Its  squandered  hours  will  ne'er  return ; 
Oh  !  many  a  heart  must  quail  with  fear 

O'er  Memory's  blotted  page  to  turn  I 
No  record  from  that  leaf  will  fade, 
Nor  one  erasure  may  be  made. 

3.  Another  year  f  another  year! 

How  many  a  grief  has  marked  its  flight  I 
Some  whom  we  love,  no  more  are  here,  — - 

Translated  to  the  realms  of  light. 
Ah  !  none  can  bless  the  coming  year 
Like  those  no  more  to  greet  us  here. 

4.  Another  year !  another  year ! 

Oh  !  many  a  blessing,  too,  was  given, 
Our  lives  to  deck,  our  hearts  to  cheer, 

And  antedate  the  joys  of  Heaven ; 
But  they,  too,  slumber  in  the  past. 
Where  joys  and  griefs  must  sink  at  last. 

5.  Another  year !  another  year ! 

Gaze  we  no  longer  on  the  past ; 
Nor  let  us  shrink,  with  faithless  fear. 

From  the  dark  shade  the  future  casts. 
The  past,  the  future,  —  what  are  they 
To  those  whose  lives  may  end  to-day  ? 

6.  Another  year  !  another  year ! 

Perchance  the  last  of  life  below  ! 
Who,  ere  its  close.  Death's  call  may  hear. 

None  but  the  Lord  of  life  can  know. 
Oh  to  be  found,  whene'er  that  day 
May  come,  prepared  to  pass  away ! 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  273 

7.  Anotlier  year  !  another  year  ! 

Help  us  earth's  tliorny  path  to  tread ; 
So  may  each  moment  bring  us  near 

To  Thee,  ere  yet  our  lives  are  fled. 
Savior  !   we  yield  ourselves  to  Thee 
For  time  and  for  eternity. 


LESSON   LXXX. 
THE  TELESCOPE  AND  THE  MICROSCOPE. 

I^HE  telescope,  by  piercing  the  obscurity  which  limits 
,  the  range  of  our  unassisted  vision,  reveals  to  us  count- 
less worlds  and  wonders,  which,  without  its  aid,  would 
never  have  been  observed  by  human  ken.  Soon  after  the 
invention  of  the  telescope,  another  instrument  is  formed, 
called  the  microscope,  which  lays  open  to  our  view  scenes 
no  less  wonderful.  By  it  we  are  enabled  to  discern,  in 
every  particle  of  matter,  innumerable  living  creatures,  too 
minute  for  the  naked  eye  to  discover.  The  telescope  re- 
veals to  us  a  system  in  every  star  ;  the  microscope  leads  us 
to  see  a  world  in  every  atom. 

2.  The  one  teaches  us  that  this  mighty  globe,  with  the 
whole  burden  of  its  people  and  of  its  countries,  is  but  a 
grain  of  sand  on  the  high  field  of  immensity ;  the  other^ 
that  every  grain  of  sand  may  harbor  within  it  the  tribes 
and  families  of  a  busy  population.  The  one  tells  us  of  the 
magnificence  of  the  world  we  tread  upon  :  the  other  re- 
deems it  from  all  its  insignificance  ;  for  it  tells  us  that  in 
the  leaves  of  every  forest,  and  in  the  flowers  of  every  gar- 
den, and  in  the  waters  of  every  rivulet,  there  are  worlds 
18 


274  SANDERS'  UNION   fcJERIES. 

teeming  with  life,  and  numberless  as  are  the  glories  of  the 
firmament. 

3.  The  one  has  suggested  to  us,  that,  beyond  and  above 
all  that  is  visible  to  man,  there  may  lie  fields  of  creation 
which  sweep  immeasurably  along,  and  carry  the  impress 
of  the  Almighty's  hand  to  the  remotest  scenes  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  the  other  suggests  to  us,  that,  within  and  beneath 
all  that  minuteness  which  the  aided  eye  of  man  has  been 
able  to  explore,  there  may  lie  a  region  of  invisibles ;  and 
that,  could  we  draw  aside  the  mysterious  curtain  which 
shrouds  it  from  our  senses,  w^e  might  there  see  a  theater 
of  as  many  wonders  as  astronomy  has  unfolded,  • —  a  uni- 
verse within  the  compass  of  a  point  so  small,  as  to  elude 
all  the  powers  of  the  microscope,  but  where  the  wonder- 
working God  finds  room  for  the  exercise  of  all  His  attri- 
butes, where  He  can  raise  another  mechanism  of  worlds, 
and  fill  and  animate  them  all  with  the  evidences  of  His 
glory. 

4.  By  the  telescope,  we  have  discovered  that  no  mag- 
nitude, however  vast,  is  beyond  the  grasp  of  the  Divinity ; 
but,  by  the  microscope,  w^e  have  also  discovered  that  no 
minuteness,  however  shrunk  from  the  notice  of  the  human 
eye,  is  beneath  the  condescension  of  His  regard.  Every 
addition  to  the  powers  of  the  one  instrument,  extends  the 
limit  of  His  visible  dominions ;  but,  by  every  addition  of 
the  powers  of  the  other  instrument,  we  see  each  part  of 
them  more  crowded  than  before  with  the  wonders  of  His 
unwearying  hand.  The  one  is  constantly  widening  the 
circle  of  His  territory ;  the  other  is  as  constantly  filling 
up  its  separate  portions  with  all  that  is  rich,  and  various, 
and  exquisite. 

5.  In  a  word,  by  the  one  we  are  told  that  the  Almighty 
is  now  at  work  in  regions  more  distant  than  geometry  has 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  275 

ever  measured,  and  among  worlds  more  manifold  than 
numbers  have  ever  reached  ;  but,  by  the  other ^  we  are  also 
told,  that  with  a  mind  to  comprehend  the  whole,  in  the 
vast  compass  of  its  generality,  He  has  also  a  mind  to  con- 
centrate a  close  and  a  separate  attention  on  each  and  all 
of  its  particulars  ;  and  that  the  same  God,  who  sends  forth 
an  upholduig  influence  among  the  orbs  and  the  movements 
of  astronomy,  can  fill  the  recesses  of  every  single  atom 
with  the  intimacy  of  His  presence,  and  travel,  in  all  the 
greatness  of  His  unimpaired  attributes,  upon  every  spot 
and  corner  of  the  universe  He  has  formed. 


LESSON   LXXXI. 
IMMENSITY  OF  THE   UNIVERSE. 

O.  M.  MITCHEL. 

"  Where  is  the  way  where  light  dwelleth  ?  and  as  for  darkness,  where  is 
the  place  thereof,  that  thou  shouldest  take  it  to  the  bound  thereof,  and  that 
thou  shouldest  know  the  paths  to  the  house  thereof?  Knowest  thou  it,  be- 
cause thou  wast  then  born,  or  because  the  number  of  thy  days  is  great  1"  — 
Job  xxxviii.  19,  20,  21. 

GO  with  me  to  yonder  "  light-house  *  of  the  skies." 
Poised  on  its  rocky  base,  behold  that  wondrous  tube 
which  lifts  the  broad  pupil  of  its  eye  high  up,  as  if  gazing 
instinctively  into  the  mighty  deep  of  space.  Look  out 
upon  the  heavens,  and  gather  into  your  eye  its  glittering 
constellations.  Pause,  and  reflect  that  over  the  narrow 
zone  of  the  retina  of  your  eye  a  universe  is  pictured, 
painted  by  light  in  all  its  exquisite  and  beautiful  propor- 
tions. 

2.  Look  upon  that  luminous  zone  which  girdles  the  sky, 

*  Obserratory. 


276  SANDEES'  UNION   SERIES. 

—  observe  its  faint  and  cloudy  light.  How  long,  think 
you,  that  light  has  been  streaming,  day  and  night,  with  a 
swiftness  which  flashes  it  on  its  way  twelve  millions  of 
miles  in  each  and  every  minute  ?  —  how  long  has  it  fled 
and  flashed  tlu'ough  space  to  reach  your  eye  and  tell  its 
wondrous  tale  ?  Not  less  than  a  century  has  rolled  away 
since  it  left  its  home !  Hast  thou  taken  it  at  the  bound 
thereof?  Is  this  the  bound,  —  here  the  limit  from  beyond 
which  light  can  never  come  ? 

3.  Look  to  yonder  point  in  space,  and  declare  that  thou 
beholdest  nothing,  absolutely  nothing ;  all  is  blank,  and 
deep,  and  dark.  You  exclaim,  — ''  Surely  no  ray  illumines 
that  deep  profound !  "  Place  your  eye  for  one  moment  to 
the  tube  that  now  pierces  that  seeming  domain  of  night, 
and,  lo !  ten  thousand  orbs,  blazing  with  light  unutterable, 
burst  on  the  astonished  sight.  Whence  start  these  hidden 
suns?  Whence  comes  this  light  from  out  deep  dark- 
ness ?  Knowest  thou,  O  man  !  the  paths  to  the  house 
thereof? 

4.  Ten  thousand  years  have  rolled  away  since  these 
wondrous  beams  set  out  on  their  mighty  journey  !  Then 
you  exclaim,  —  "  We  have  found  the  boundary  of  light , 
surely  none  can  lie  beyond  this  stupendous  limit :  far  in 
the  deep  beyond,  darkness  unfathomable  reigns !  Look 
once  more.  The  vision  changes ;  a  hazy  cloud  of  light 
now  fills  the  field  of  the  telescope.  Whence  comes  the 
light  of  this  mysterious  object  ?  Its  home  is  in  the  mighty 
deep,  as  far  beyond  the  limit  you  had  vainly  fixed  —  ten 
thousand  times  as  far  —  as  that  limit  is  beyond  the  reach 
of  human  vision. 

5.  And  thus  we  mount,  and  rise,  and  soar,  from  hight 
to  hight,  upward,  and  ever  upward  still,  till  the  mighty 
series  ends,  because  vision  f^ils,  and  sinks,  and  dies.    Hast 


UNION  FIFTH  READEB.  2/i 

thou  then  pierced  the  boundary  of  light  ?  Hast  thou 
penetrated  the  domain  of  darkness  ?  Hast  thou,  weak 
mortal,  soared  to  the  fountain  whence  come  these  won- 
drous streams,  and  taken  the  light  at  the  hand  thereof? 
Knowest  thou  the  paths  to  the  house  thereof  ? 

6.  Hast  thou  stood  at  yonder  infinite  origin,  and  bid  that 
flash  depart  and  journey  onward,  —  days,  and  months,  and 
years,  century  on  century,  through  countless  ages,  —  mill- 
ions of  years,  and  never  weary  in  its  swift  career? 
Knowest  thou  when  it  started  ?  "  Knowest  thou  it,  be- 
cause thou  wast  then  born,  or  because  the  number  of  thy 
days  is  great?  "  Such,  then,  is  the  language  addressed  by 
Jehovah  to  weak,  erring,  mortal  man.  How  has  the  light 
of  science  flooded  with  meaning  this  astonishing  passage  ! 
Surely,  surely  we  do  not  misread,  —  the  interpretation 
is  just. 


LESSON   LXXXII. 
THE  FIRST  PREDICTER  OF   AN  ECLIPSE. 

O.  M.  MITCHEL. 

TO  those  who  have  given  but  little  attention  to  the  sub- 
ject, even  in  our  own  day,  with  all  the  aids  of  modern 
science,  the  prediction  of  an  eclipse  seems  sufficiently  mys- 
terious and  unintelligible.  How,  then,  it  was  possible, 
thousands  of  years  ago,  to  accomplish  the  same  great  ob- 
ject, without  any  just  views  of  the  structure  of  the  system, 
seems  utterly  incredible. 

2.  Follow  then,  in  imaginatLju,  this  bold  interrogator 
of  the  skies  to  his  solitary  mountain  summit ;  withdrawn 
from  the  world,  surrounded  by  his  mysterious  circles,  there 
to  watch  and  ponder  through  the  long -nights  of  many, 


278  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

many  years.  But  hope  cheers  him  on,  and  smooths  his 
rugged  pathway.  Dark  and  deep  is  the  problem ;  he 
sternly  grapples  with  it,  and  resolves  never  to  give  up  till 
victory  shall  crown  his  efforts. 

3.  He  has  already  remarked  that  the  moon's  track  in 
the  heavens  crossed  the  sun's,  and  that  this  point  of  cross- 
ing was  in  soma  way  intimately  connected  with  the  coming 
of  the  dread  eclipse.  He  determines  to  watch,  and  learn 
whether  the  point  of  crossing  was  fixed,  or  whether  the 
moon  in  each  successive  revolution  crossed  the  sun's  path 
at  a  different  point.  If  the  sun  in  its  annual  revolution 
could  leave  behind  him  a  track^of  fire,  marking  his  journey 
among  the  stars,  it  is  found  that  this  same  track  would  be 
followed  from  year  to  year,  and  from  century  to  century, 
with  undeviating  precision. 

4.  But  it  was  soon  discovered  that  it  is  far  different  with 
the  moon.  In  case  she,  too,  could  leave  behind  her  a  silver 
thread  of  light  sweeping  round  the  heavens,  in  completing 
one  revolution,  this  thread  would  not  join,  but  would  wind 
around  among  the  stars,  in  each  revolution  crossing  the 
sun's  fiery  track  at  a  point  west  of  the  previous  crossing. 
Tliese  points  of  crossing  were  called  the  moon^s  nodes.  At 
each  revolution  the  node  occurred  farther  west,  until,  afler 
a  circle  of  about  nineteen  years,  it  had  circulated  in  the 
same'  direction  entirely  round  the  ecliptic. 

5.  Long  and  patiently  did  the  astronomer  watch  and 
wait.  Each  eclipse  is  duly  observed,  and  its  attendant  cir- 
cumstances are  recorded ;  when,  at  last,  the  darkness  be- 
gins to  give  way,  and  a  ray  of  light  breaks  in  upon  his 
mind.  He  finds  that  no  eclipse  of  the  sun  ever  occurs, 
unless  the  new  moon  is  in  the  act  of  crossing  the  sun's 
track.  Here  was  a  grand  discovery.  He  holds  the  key 
which  he  believes  will  unlock  the  dread  mystery. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  279 

6.  To  predict  an  eclipse  of  the  sun,  he  must  sweep  for- 
ward from  new  moon  to  new  moon,  until  he  finds  some 
new  moon  which  should  occur,  while  the  moon  was  in  the 
act  of  crossing  from  one  side  to  the  other  of  the  sun's 
track.  This  certainly  was  possible.  He  knew  the  exact 
period  from  new  moon  to  new  moon,  and  from  one  cross- 
ing of  the  ecliptic  to  another.  With  eager  eye  he  seizes 
the  moon's  place  in  the  heavens,  and  her  age,  and  rapidly 
computes  where  she  will  be  at  her  next  change. 

7.  He  finds  the  new  moon  occurring  far  from  the  sun's 
track  ;  he  runs  round  another  revolution  ;  the  place  of  the 
new  moon  falls  closer  to  the  sun's  path,  and  the  next  year 
closer,  until,  reaching  forward  with  piercing  intellectual 
vigor,  he,  at  last,  finds  a  new  moon  which  occurs  precisely 
at  the  computed  time  of  her  passage  across  the  sun's  track. 
Here  he  makes  his  stand,  and  announces  to  the  startled 
inhabitants  of  the  world,  that,  on  the  day  of  the  occurrence 
of  that  new  moon,  the  sim  shall  expire  in  dark  eclipse. 

8.  Bold  prediction  !  Mysterious  prophet !  — :  with  what 
scorn  must  the  unthinkinoj  world  have  received  this  sol- 
emn  declaration  I  How  slowly  do  the  moons  roll -away, 
and  with  what  intense  anxiety  does  the  stern  philosopher 
await  the  coming  of  that  day  which  should  crown  him  with 
victory,  or  dash  him  to  the  ground  in  ruin  and  disgrace ! 
Time  to  him  moves  on  leaden  wings ;  day  after  day,  and, 
at  last,  hour  after  hour,  roll  heavily  away.  The  last  night 
is  gone ;  the  moon  has  disappeared  from  his  eagle  gaze  in 
her  approach  to  the  sun,  and  the  dawn  of  the  eventful  day 
breaks  in  beauty  on  a  slumbering  world. 

9.  This  daring  man,  stern  in  his  faith,  climbs  alone  to 
his  rocky  home,  and  greets  the  sun  as  he  rises  and  mounts 
the  heavens,  scattering  brightness  and  glory  in  his  path. 
Beneath  him  is  spread  out  the  populous  city,  already  teem- 


280  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

ing  with  life  and  activity.  The  busy  morning  hum  rises 
on  the  still  air,  and  reaches  the  watching-place  of  the  soh- 
tary  astronomer.  The  thousands  below  him,  unconscious 
of  his  intense  anxiety,  buoyant  with  life,  joyously  pursue 
their  rounds  of  business,  their  cycles  of  amusement. 

10.  The  sun  slowly  climbs  the  heaven,  round,  and  bright, 
and  full-orbed.  The  lone  tenant  of  the  mountain-top  al- 
most begins  to  waver  in  the  sternness  of  his  faith  as  the 
morning  hours  roll  away.  But  the  time  of  his  triumph, 
long  delayed,  at  length  begins  to  dawn  ;  a  pale  and  sickly 
hue  creeps  over  the  face  of  Nature.  The  sun  has  reached 
his  highest  point ;  but  his  splendor  is  dimmed,  his  light  is 
feeble.  At  last  it  comes !  Blackness  is  eating  away  his 
round  disk,  —  onward  with  slow  but  steady  pace  the  dark 
vail  moves,  blacker  than  a  thousand  nights,  —  the  gloom 
deepens,  —  the  ghastly  hue  of  death  covers  the  universe, — 
the  last  ray  is  gone,  and  horror  reigns ! 

11.  A  wail  of  terror  fills  the  murky  air,  the  clangor 
of  brazen  trumpets  resounds,  an  agony  of  despair  dashes 
the  stricken  millions  to  the  ground  ;  while  that  lone  man, 
erect  on  his  rocky  summit,  with  arms  outstretched  to 
heaven,  pours  forth  'the  grateful  gushings  of  his  heart  to 
God,  who  had  crowned  his  efforts  with  triumphant  victory. 
Search  the  records  of  our  race,  and  point  me,  if  you  can, 
to  a  scene  more  grand,  more  beautiful !  It  is  to  me  the 
proudest  victory  that  genius  ever  won.  It  was  the  con- 
quering of  nature,  of  ignorance,  of  superstition,  ^f  terror, 
all  at  a  single  blow,  and  that  blow  struck  by  a  single  arm. 

12.  And  now  do  you  demand  the  name  of  this  wonder- 
ful man  ?  Alas  !  what  a  lesson  of  the  instability  of  earthly 
fame  are  we  taught  in  this  simple  recital !  He  who  had 
raised  himself  immeasurably  above  his  race. — who  must 
have  been  regarded  by  his  fellows  as  little  less  than  a 


UNION  FIFTH  READEE.  281 

god,  —  who  had  inscribed  his  fame  on  the  very  heavens, 
and  had  written  it  in  the  sun,  with  a  ''pen  of  iron,  and 
the  point  of  a  diamond,"  even  this  one  has  perished  from 
the  earth  ;  name,  age,  country,  are  all  swept  into  oblivion. 
But  his  proud  achievement  stands.  The  monument  reared 
to  his  honor  stands  ;  and,  although  the  touch  of  time  has 
effaced  the  lettering  of  his  name,  it  is  powerless,  and  can 
not  destroy  the  fruits  of  his  victory. 


LESSON    LXXXIIL 

THE   SONG   OF   LIGHT. 

W.   p.    PAL5IER. 

1-  T1R0M  the  primal  gloom,  like  an  orb  of  Doom, 
J_      The  sun  rolled  black  and  bare, 
Till  I  wove  him  a  vest  for  his  Ethiop  breast 

Of  the  threads  of  my  golden  hair  ; 
And  when  the  broad  tent  of  the  firmament 

Arose  on  its  airy  spars, 
I  penciled  the  hue  of  its  matchless  blue, 

And  spangled  it  round  with  stars. 

2.  I  painted  the  flowers  of  the  Eden  bowsers. 

And  their  leaves  of  living  green  ; 
And  mine  were  the  dyes  in  the  sinless  eyes 

Of  Eden's  virgin  queen  ; 
But  when  the  Fiend's  art  in  the  trustful  heart 

Had  fastened  his  mortal  spell, 
In  the  silvery  sphere  of  the  first-born  year, 

To  the  tremblincr  earth  I  fell. 


282  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES.    ' 

8.  When  the  waves  that  burst  o'er  a  world  accursed 
Their  work  of  wrath  had  sped, 
And  the  Ark's  lone  few  —  the  faithful  and  true  — 

Came  forth  among  the  dead, 
With  the  wondrous  gleams  of  my  bridal  dreams, 

I  bade  their  terror  cease ; 
And  I  wrote,  on  the  roll  of  the  storm's  dark  scroll, 
God's  Covenant  of  Peace. 

4.  Like  a  pall  at  rest  on  a  senseless  breast, 

Night's  funeral  shadow  slept, — 
Where  shepherd  swains,  on  Bethlehem's  plains, 

Their  lonely  vigils  kept, 
When  I  flashed  on  their  sight  the  herald  bright 

Of  Heaven's  redeeming  plan. 
As  they  chanted  the  morn  of  a  Savior  born, — 

"  Joy  !  joy  !  to  the  outcast  man  !  " 

5.  Equal  favor  I  show  to  the  lofty  and  low, 

On  the  just  and  unjust  descend  ; 
The  blind,  whose  vain  spheres  roll  in  darkness  and  tears, 

Tell  my  smile,  —  the  blest  smile  of  a  friend  ; 
The  flower  of  the  waste  by  my  smile  is  embraced. 

As  the  rose  in  the  garden  of  kings  ; 
At  the  chrysalis  bier  of  the  worm  I  appear. 

And  lo  !  the  butterfly  wings  ! 

6.  From  my  sentinel  steep  by  the  night-brooded  deep, 

I  gaze  with  unslumbering  eye. 
While  the  cynosure  *  star  of  the  mariner 
Is  blotted  out  of  the  sky  ; 

*  Cyn'  o  sure,  the  constellation  of  the  Lesser  Bear,  to  which,  as  contain- 
ing the  polar  star,  the  eyes  of  mariners  and  travelers  are  often  directed. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  283 

And  guided  by  me  through  the  merciless  sea, 
Though  sped  by  the  hurricane's  wing,    ' 

His  compassless,  dark,  lone,  weltering  bark 
To  the  haven-home  safely  I  bring. 

7.  I  awaken  the  flowers  in  their  dew-spangled  bowers, 

The  birds  in  their  chambers  of  green  ; 
And  mountain  and  plain  glow  with  beauty  again, 

As  they  bask  in  my  matinal  sheen. 
Oh !  if  such  be  the  worth  of  my  presence  on  earth, 

Though  fitful  and  fleeting  the  while, 
What  glories  must  rest  on  the  home  of  the  blest, 

Ever  bright  with  the  Deity  s  srnile  1 


LESSON   LXXXIV. 

CHANT  AND   CHORUS   OF   THE  PLANETS. 

ANNA  BLACKWELL. 

An  excellent  effect  may  be  produced  by  letting  One  Pupil  read  the  first 
four  lines  of  each  stanza  in  a  clear,  distinct  tone  of  voice,  and  the  Wholb 
Class  read  the  remaining  lines  in  concert,  as  indicated. 

ONE    PUPIL. 

1.  Father  of  all ! 

With  joy  Thy  children  stand 
To  bless  the  bounty  of  Thy  Parent-hand, 
And  on  Thy  name  with  loving  reverence  call. 

WHOLK    CLASS. 

From  farthest  realms  of  light 
Our  grateful  strains  their  choral  tide  unite, 
And,  at  Thy  universal  throne,  in  adoration  fall ! 


284  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

ONE    PUPIL. 

2.  Great  Worker !  we 
Rejoice  Thy  plans  to  share ; 

In  Thy  wide  labors  our  high  part  to  bear; 
Thy  ministers,  Omnipotent  I  to  be. 

WHOLE   CLASS. 

Thus  all  the  realms  of  light, 
O  God !   with  Thee  in  sympathy  unite. 
And, in  a  holy  and  ennobling  friendship,  work  with  Thee! 

ONE    PUPIL. 

3.  Sovereign  Divine! 
We  glory  in  the  might 

Of  Thine  own  uncreated  Light, 
Whose  living  rays  Thy  sacred  brow  intwine ! 

WHOLE   CLASS. 

(<^)  Higher  and  ever  higlier, 

We  soar  on  tii-eless  wing,  all-glorious  Sire! 
Toward  the  Eternal  Throne,  whose  splendors  on  all  be- 
ings shine ! 

"ONE    PUPIL. 

4.  Love  !  measureless, 
Exhaustless,  unto  Thee 
We  gravitate  eternally ! 

Thou  giv'st  existence  but  that  Thou  may'st  bless. 

WHOLE    CLASS. 

To  Thee  we  ever  tend, 

Seeking  with  thee,  O  Central  Life  !  to  blend : 
Almighty  Love,  Creation's  source,  all  beings  Thee  con- 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEB.  285 


LESSON   LXXXV. 

•      INSIGNIFICANCE   OF   THE   EARTH. 

CHALMEK8. 

THOUGH  the  earth  were  to  be  burned  np,  though  the 
trumpet  of  its  dissolution  were  sounded,  though  yon  sky 
were  to  pass  away  as  a  scroll,  and  every  visible  glory  which 
the  finger  of  the  Divinity  has  inscribed  on  it,  were  extin- 
guished forever,  —  an  event  so  awful  to  us,  and  to  every 
world  in  our  vicinity,  by  which  so  many  suns  would  be  ex- 
tinguished, and  so  many  varied  scenes  of  life  and  population 
would  rush  into  forge tfulness,' — what  is  it  in  the  high  scale 
of  the  Almighty's  workmanship?  A  mere  shred,  which, 
though  scattered  into  nothing,  would  leave  the  universe  of 
God  one  entire  scene  of  greatness  and  of  majesty. 

2.  Though  the  earth  and  the  heavens  were  to  disappear, 
there  are  other  worlds  which  roll  afar ;  the  light  of  other 
suns  shines  upon  them  ;  and  the  sky  which  mantles  them,  is 
garnished  with  other  stars.  Is  it  presumption  to  say  that 
the  moral  world  extends  to  these  distant  and  unknown  re- 
gions' ?  that  they  are  occupied  w^ith  })eople'  ?  that  the  chari- 
ties of  home  and  of  neiohborhood  flourish  there'  ?  that  the 
praises  of  God  are  there  lifted  up,  and  his  goodness  rejoiced 
in'  ?  that  there  piety  has  its  temples  and  its  offerings'  '^  and 
the  richness  of  the  divine  attributes  is  there  felt  and  ad- 
mired by  intelligent  worshipers'  ? 

3.  And  what  is  this  world  in  the  immensity  which  teems 
with  worlds  ?  and  what  are  they  who  occupy  it  ?  The  universe 
at  large  would  suffer  as  little  in  its  splendor  and  variety  by 
the  destruction  of  our  planet,  as  the  verdure  and  sublime 
magnitude  of  a  forest  would  suffer  by  the  fall  of  a  single 
leaf.     The  leaf  quivers  on  the  branch  which  supports  it. 


286  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

It  lies  at  the  mercy  of  the  slightest  accident.  A  breath  of 
wind  tears  it  from  its  stem,  and  it  lights  on  the  stream 
of  water  which  passes  underneath. 

4.  In  a  moment,  the  life,  which  we  know  by  the  micro- 
scrope  the  leaf  teems  with,  is  extinguished ;  and  an  occur- 
rence so  insignificant  in  the  eye  of  man,  and  on  the  scale 
of  liis  observation,  carries  in  it,  to  the  myriads  which  people 
lliis  Httle  leaf,  an  event  as  terrible  ami  decisive  as  the  de- 
struction  of  a  world.  Thus  we  may  see  the  littleness  and 
insecurity  of  these  myriads.  Now,  on  the  grand  scale  of 
the  universe,  ive^  the  occupiers  of  this  ball,  which  performs 
its  round  among  the  suns  and  systems  that  astronomy  has 
unfolded,  may  feel  the  same  littleness  and  insecurity.  We 
differ  from  the  leaf  only  in  this  circumstance,  —  that  it 
would  require  the  operation  of  greater  elements  to  destroy 
us.     But  these  elements  exist. 

5.  The  fire  which  rages  within,  may  lift  its  devouring 
energy  to  the  surface  of  our  planet,  and  transform  it  into 
one  wide  and  wasting  volcano.  The  sudden  formation  of 
elastic  matter  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  —  and  it  lies  with- 
in the  agency  of  known  substances  to  accomplish  this  — 
may  explode  it  into  fragments.  The  exhalation  of  noxious 
air  from  below  may  impart  a  virulence  to  the  air  that  is 
around  us ;  it  may  affect  the  delicate  proportion  of  its  in- 
gredients ;  and  the  whole  of  animated  nature  may  wither 
and  die  under  the  malignity  of  a  tainted  atmosphere.  A 
blazing  comet  may  cross  this  fated  planet  in  its  orbit ;  and 
all  the  terrors  which  superstition  has  conceived  of  such  an 
event,  may  be  realized. 

6.  We  can  not  anticipate  with  precision  the  consequen- 
ces of  an  event  which  every  astronomer  must  know  lies 
within  the  limits  of  chance  and  probability.  It  may  hurry 
our  globe  toward  the  sun ,  or  drag  it  to  the  outer  regions  of 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  287 

the  planetary  system,  or  give  it  a  new  axis  of  revolution ; 
and  the  effect,  which  I  sliall  simply  announce  without  ex- 
plaining it,  would  be  to  change  the  place  of  the  ocean,  and 
bring  another  mighty  flood  upon  our  islands  and  conti- 
nents. 

7.  These  are  changes  which  may  happen  in  a  single  in- 
stant of  time,  and  against  which  nothing  known  in  the 
present  system  of  things  provides  us  with  any  security. 
They  might  not  annihilate  the  earth,  but  they  would  un- 
people it ;  and  we,  who  tread  its  surface  with  such  firm  and 
assured  footsteps,  are  at  the  mercy  of  devouring  elements, 
which,  if  let  loose  upon  us  by  the  hand  of  the  Almighty, 
would  spread  solitude,  and  silence,  and  death  over  the 
dominions  of  the  world. 

8.  Now,  it  is  this  littleness  and  this  insecurity  which 
make  the  protection  of  the  Almighty  so  dear  to  us,  and 
bring  with  such  emphasis  to  every  pious  bosom  the  holy 
lessons  of  humility  and  gratitude.  The  God  who  sitteth 
above,  and  presides  in  high  authority  over  all  worlds,  is 
mindful  of  man  ;  and  though,  at  this  moment.  His  energy 
is  felt  in  the  remotest  provinces  of  creation,  we  may  feel 
the  same  security  in  His  providence,  as  if  we  were  the 
objects  of  His  undivided  care. 

9.  It  is  not  for  us  to  bring  our  minds  up  to  this  mysteri- 
ous agency.  But  such  is  the  incomprehensible  fact,  that 
the  same  Being,  whose  eye  is  abroad  over  the  whole  uni- 
verse, gives  vegetation  to  every  blade  of  grass,  and  motion 
to  every  particle  of  blood  which  circulates  through  the  veins 
of  the  minutest  animal ;  that,  though  His  mind  takes  into 
His  comprehensive  grasp  immensity  and  all  its  wonders,  I 
am  as  much  known  to  Him  as  if  I  were  the  single  object 
of  His  attention  ;  that  He  marks  all  my  thoughts  ;  that  He 
gives  birth  to  every  feeling  and  every  movement  within 


288  SANDERS"   UNION  SERIES. 

me ;  and  that,  with  an  exercise  of  power  which  I  can 
neither  describe  nor  comprehend,  the  same  God  who  sits 
in  the  highest  Heaven,  and  reigns  over  the  glories  of  the  fir-' 
mament,  is  at  my  right  hand,  to  give  me  every  breath 
which  I  draw,  and  every  comfort  which  I  enjoy. 


LESSON    LXXXYJ. 

HONOR  TO  THE  PROJECTOR  OF  THE 
ATLANTIC  CABLE. 

A.  A.  LOW. 

From  a  speech  delivered  at  a  banquet,  given  to  Cyrus  W.  Field,  by  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce  of  New  York,  Nov.  15,  1866. 

IN  the  days  of  ancient  Rome,  when  the  armies  of  the 
republic  were  extending  her  sway  over  all  the  sur- 
rounding countries,  and  her  generals  returned  fi'om  suc- 
cessful war,  bearing  with  them  the  trophies  of  victory,  it 
was  their  custom  to  halt  outside  the  gates  of  the  city,  and 
demand  a  triumphal  entry.  When  this  was  gi'anted  by 
the  Roman  senate,  and  adequate  preparations  had  been 
made,  they  were  received  with  demonstrations  of  applause, 
and  welcomed  by  popular  acclamation. 

2.  Triumphal  arches,  erected  two  thousand  years  ago, 
still  survive  to  attest  the  grandeur  of  earlier  and  later  con- 
quests ;  and  with  what  imposing  ceremonies  the  heroes  of 
the  republic  and  the  empire  were  admitted  to  the  capital ! 
So  it  has  been  in  all  times ;  and  history  is  a  continuous 
record  of  homage  paid  to  military  genius,  however  ag- 
gressive, however  destructive  of  the  rights  and  happiness 
of  man. 

3.  Nor  has  the  tribute  of  respect  been  confined  to  those 
who  have  gained  success  in  war ;  nor  has  it  been  limited 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  289 

to  kings  and  queens,  or  the  commanders  of  victorious 
armies.  In  all  countries  and  in  all  ages,  persevering, 
courageous,  faithful,  and  devoted  men,  of  every  caUing  and 
condition  of  life,  have  been  found  to  command  the  admii-a- 
tion  of  their  fellows,  and  reap  the  reward  of  well  doing. 
Tlie  sentiment  which  honored  martial  prowess  in  the  days 
of  ancient  Rome,  exerts  the  same  power,  at  the  present 
tims,  over  every  American  heart. 

4.  In  our  own  day,  w4th  a  simplicity  more  truly  repub- 
lican, but  with  an  earnestness  not  less  sincere  than  that  of 
the  Roman  people,  we  welcome  to  our  cities  and  our  homes 
the  victorious  generals,  who,  by  their  valor  and  their  suc- 
cess, have  re-established  for  ourselves  and  for  our  children 
the  principles  of  liberty  and  good  government  throughout 
our  land.  Nor  have  we  ever  been  backward  in  awarding 
to  men  of  high  position  in  the  State,  or  to  men  distin- 
guished as  instructors  and  benefactors  of  the  race,  the 
honors  that  are  justly  their  due.  In  days  gone  by,  it  has 
been  our  pridi  and  our  pleasure  to  welcome,  with  such 
civilities  as  we  know  how  to  render,  those  who  have  been 
raised  to  the  highest  office  in  the  gift  of  the  people,  and 
alike  the  prince  and  the  peer  of  other  realms. 

5.  But  we  are  not  met  here  now  to  exalt  president,  po- 
tentate, prince,  or  titled  lord ;  albeit  the  friend  in  whose 
honor  we  are  assembled,  is  known  by  a  Christian  name 
which  seems  to  have  been  prophetic  of  his  future  renown 
as  a  kinor  amono;  men,  —  and  his  chief  title  to  our  reo-ard 
comes  to  us  through  a  long  line  of  descent ;  not  that  genea- 
logical line,  which,  proceeding  from  father  to  son,  can  be 
distinctly  traced,  —  uniting  family  with  family,  —  but  that 
line,  which^  descending  from  Valentia  on  the  coast  of  Ire- 
land^ and  stretching  two  thousand  miles  across  the  bed  of  the 
Atlantic   to  Neivfoundland^  reaches  "•Hearts   Content''''  — 


290  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

uniting  continent  with  continent  —  nation  with  nation  — 
Europe  with  America ;  bringing  all  into  the  most  intimate 
relations,  and  securing  to  each  other  instant  knowledge  of 
every  thing  that  is  of  mutual  concern. 

6.  I  venture  to  say  there  is  not  an  emotion  known  to 
the  human  soul,  —  whether  of  joy  or  sorrow,  of  pleasure 
or  pain,  of  disappointment  following  high-wrought  expecta- 
tion, of  anxiety  bordering  on  despair,  of  hope  mounting  to 
the  region  of  sublimest  faith,  —  that,  during  these  twelve 
last  years,  has  not  entered  into  the  experience  of  our  long- 
tried  and  well-proved  champion. 

7.  We  may  fairly  claim,  that,  from  first  to  last,  Cyrus 
W.  Field  has  been  more  closely,  more  consistently,  identi- 
fied with  the  Atlantic  Telegraph  than  any  other  living 
man ;  and  his  name  and  his  fame,  which  the  Queen  of 
Great  Britain  has  justly  left  to  the  care  of  the  American 
government  and  people,  will  be  proudly  cherished  and 
gratefully  honored.  AVe  are  in  daily  use  of  the  fruits  of 
his  labors ;  and  it  is  meet  that  the  men  of  commerce, 
of  literature  and  law,  of  science  and  art,  of  all  the  profes- 
sions that  impart  dignity  and  worth  to  our  nature,  should 
come  together,  and  give  a  hearty,  joyous,  and  generous 
welcome  to  this  truly  chivalrous  son  of  America. 

8.  We  have  met,  not  to  celebrate  a  victory  of  arms  on 
land  or  sea ;  not  the  acquisition  of  conquered  provinces, 
annexed  to  our  national  domain ;  but  we  have  met,  rather, 
to  commemorate  an  event  of  vast  international  interest ;  an 
epoch  in  the  progress  of  science ;  the  attainment  of  a 
great  commercial  boon ;  a  triumph  over  obstacles  hitherto 
deemed  insurmountable.  We  are  met  to  celebrate  an 
achievement  that  reflects  much  credit  upon  the  handicraft 
of  the  mechanic,  on  the  skill  and  capacity  of  the  sailor, 
on  the  intelligence  and    liberality  of  the  merchant,  —  an 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  291 

achievement  which  elicits  our  admiration  of  the  electricians 
who  have  artfully  explored  the  occult  laws  of  Nature,  and, 
seizing  subtle  powers  hitherto  but  j)artia]ly  developed,  have 
converted  them  to  the  use  of  man,  —  giving  him  a  new 
sense  of  what  Omnipresence  is. 

9.  We  have  come  here  to  acknowledge  the  aid  imparted 
to  the  Atlantic  Telegraph  Company  by  the  Government^ 
of  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States,  through  the  en- 
lightened action  of  their  respective  and  intelligent  states- 
men ;  to  own  the  important  part  taken  by  the  naval  ships 
of  both  countries  ;  the  generous  pecuniary  support  ren- 
dered by  the  wealthy  merchants  and  factors  of  Great 
Britain ;  and,  above  all,  to  recognize  the  goodness  of  that 
Divine  Beino*  who  has  crowned  the  labors  of  all  with 
abundant  success,  —  who  has  vouchsafed  such  wonderful 
gifts  to  man ! 


LESSON    LXXXYIT. 

RECOVERY  OF  THE  LOST  ATLANTIC  CABLE. 

CYRUS  W.   FIELD. 

BUT  our  work  was  not  over.  After  landing  the  cable 
safely  at  Newfoundland,  we  had  another  task,  —  to  re- 
turn to  mid-ocean  and  recover  that  lost  in  the  expedition 
of  last  year.  This  achievement  has,  perhaps,  excited  more 
surprise  than  the  other.  Many  even  now  "  do  not  under- 
stand it ; "  and  every  day  I  am  asked,  "  How  was  it  done  ?  '* 
Well,  it  does  seem  rather  difficlilt  to  fish  for  a  jewel  at  the 
bottom  of  the  ocean  two  and  half  miles  deep.  But  it  is 
not  so  very  difficult,  when  you  know  how. 

2.  You  may  be  sure  we  did  not  go  a-fishing  at  random, 
nor  was  our  success  mere  "  luck."     It  was  the  triumph  of 


292  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

the  highest  nautical  and  engineering  skill.  We  had  four 
ships,  and  on  board  of  them  some  of  tlie  best  seamen  in 
England,  —  men  who  knew  tlie  ocean  as  a  hunter  knows 
every  trail  in  the  forest.  There  was  Capt.  Moriarty,  who 
was  in  "  The  Agamemnon  "  in  1857-8.  He  was  in  "  The 
Great  Eastern  "  last  year,  and  saw  the  cable  wlien  it 
broke ;  and  he  and  Capt.  Anderson  at  once  took  their  ob- 
servations so  exact,  that  they  could  go  right  to  the  spot. 

3.  After  finding  it,  they  marked  the  line  of  the  cable  by 
a  row  of  buoys;  for  fogs  would  come  down,  and  shut  out 
sun  and  stars,  so  that  no  man  could  take  an  observation. 
These  buoys  were  anchored  a  few  miles  apart.  They  were 
numbered,  and  each  had  a  flag-staff  on  it,  so  that  it  could 
be  seen  by  day,  and  by  a  lantern  at  night.  Thus,  having 
taken  our  bearings,  we  stood  off  three  or  four  miles,  so  as 
to  come  broadside  on,  and  then,  casting  over  the  grapnel, 
drifted  slowly  down  upon  it,  dragging  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean  as  we  went. 

4.  At  first,  it  was  a  little  awkward  to  fish  in  such  deep 
w^ater ;  but  our  men  got  used  to  it,  and  soon  could  cast  a 
gi'apnel  almost  as  straight  as  an  old  whaler  throws  a  har- 
poon. Our  fishing  line  was  of  formidable  size.  It  was 
made  of  rope,  twisted  with  wires  of  steel,  so  as  to  bear  a 
strain  of  thirty  tons.  It  took  about  two  hours  for  the 
grapnel  to  reach  bottom ;  but  we  could  tell  when  it  struck. 
I  often  went  to  the  bow,  and  sat  on  the  rope,  and  could  feel 
by  the  quiver  that  the  grapnel  was  dragging  on  the  bottom 
two  miles  under  us. 

5.  But  it  was  a  very  slow  business.  We  had  storms  and 
calms,  and  fogs  and  squalls.  Still  we  worked  on,  day  after 
day.  Once,  on  the  17th  of  August,  we  got  the  cable  up, 
and  had  it  in  full  sight  for  five  minutes,  —  a  long,  slimy  mon- 
ster, fresh  from  the  ooze  of  the  ocean's  bed  ;  but  our  men 


UNION  FIFTH  READEE.  293 

began  to  cheer  so  wildly,  that  it  seemed  to  be  frightened, 
and  suddenly  broke  away,  and  went  down  into  the  sea. 
This  accident  kept  us  at  work  two  weeks  longer;  but  final- 
ly, on  the  last  night  of  August,  we  caught  it.  We  had  cast 
the  grapnel  thirty  times. 

6.  It  was  a  little  before  midnight  on  Friday,  that  we 
hooked  the  cable ;  and  it  was  a  little  after  midnight,  Sun- 
day morning,  when  we  got  it  on  board.  What  was  the 
aiixiety  of  those  twenty-six  hours  !  The  strain  on  every 
man's  life  was  like  the  strain  on  the  cable  itself.  When, 
finally,  it  appeared,  it  was  midnight ;  the  lights  of  the  ship, 
and  in  the  boats  around  our  bows,  as  they  flashed  in  the 
faces  of  the  men,  showed  them  eagerly  watching  for  the 
cable  to  ap[)ear  on  the  water. 

7.  At  length,  it  w^as  brought  to  the  surface.  All  who 
were  allowed  to  approach,  crowded  forward  to  see  it.  Yet 
not  a  word  was  spoken :  only  the  voices  of  the  officers  in 
command  were  heard  giving  orders.  All  felt  as  if  life  and 
death  hung  on  the  issue.  It  was  only  when  it  was  brought 
over  the  bow,  and  on  to  the  deck,  that  men  dared  to 
breathe.  Even  then  they  hardly  believed  their  eyes. 
Some  crept  toward  it  to  feel  of  it,  to  be  sure  it  was  there. 

8.  Then  we  carried  it  along  to  the  electricians'  room,  to 
see  if  our  long-sought  treasure  was  alive  or  dead.  A  few 
minutes  of  suspense,  and  a  flash  told  of  the  lightning  cur- 
rent again  set  free.  Then  did  the  feeling  long  pent  up 
burst  forth.  Some  turned  away  their  heads  and  wept ; 
others  broke  into  cheers ;  and  the  cry  ran  from  man  to 
man,  and  was  heard  down  in  the  engincrrooms,  deck  below 
deck,  and  from  the  boats  on  the  water,  and  the  other  ships, 
while  rockets  lighted  up  the  dai-kness  of  the  sea. 

9.  Then,  with  thankful  hearts,  we  turned  our  faces 
again  to  the  west.     But  soon  the  wind  arose,  and,  for  thir- 


294  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

ty-six  hours,  we  were  exposed  to  all  the  clangers  of  a  storm 
on  the  Atlantic.  Yet,  in  the  very  hight  and  fury  of  the 
gale,  as  I  sat  in  the  electricians'  room,  a  flash  of  light  came 
up  from  the  deep,  which,  having  crossed  to  Ireland,  came 
back  to  me  in  mid-ocean,  telling  that  those  so  dear  to  me, 
whom  I  had  left  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  were  well, 
and  following  us  with  their  wishes  and  their  prayers.  This 
was  like  a  whisper  of  God  from  the  sea,  bidding  me  keep 
heart  and  hope. 

10.  "  The  Great  Eastern"  bore  herself  proudly  through 
the  storm,  as  if  she  knew  that  the  vital  chord,  which  was 
to  join  two  hemispheres,  hung  at  her  stern  ;  and  so,  on 
Saturday,  the  7th  of  September,  we  brought  our  second 
cable  safely  to  the  shore.  Even  the  sailors  caught  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  enterprise,  and  were  eager  to  share  in 
the  honor  of  the  achievement.  Brave,  stalwart  men  they 
were,  —  at  home  on  the  ocean  and  in  the  storm,  —  of  that 
sort  that  have  carried  the  flag  of  England  around  the  globe. 
I  see  them  now  as  they  dragged  the  shore-end  up  the  beach 
at  Heart's  Content,  hugging  it  in  their  brawny  arms  as  if 
it  were  a  shipwrecked  child,  whom  they  had  rescued  from 
the  dangers  of  the  sea.     God  bless  them  all ! 

11.  Such,  in  brief,  is  the  story  of  the  Telegraph.  It 
has  been  a  long,  hard  struggle,  —  nearly  thirteen  years 
of  anxious  watching  and  ceaseless  toil.  Often  my  heart 
has  been  ready  to  sink.  Many  times,  when  wandering  in 
the  forests  of  Newfoundland,  in  the  pelting  rain,  or  on  the 
deck  of  ships,  on  dark,  stormy  nights,  —  alone,  far  from 
home,  —  I  have  alryiost  accused  myself  of  madness  and  folly 
to  sacrifice  the  peace  of  my  family,  and  all  the  hopes  of 
life,  for  what  might  prove,  after  all,  but  a  dream.  I  have 
seen  my  companions  one  and  another  falling  by  my  side, 
and  feared  that  J,  too,  might  not  live  to  see  the  end.     And 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  295 

yet  one  hope  has  led  me  on,  and  I  have  prayed  that  I 
might  not  taste  of  deatli  till  this  work  was  accomplished. 
That  prayer  is  answered ;  and  now,  beyond  all  acknowl- 
edorments  to  men,  is  the  feeling  of  gratitude  TO  Al- 
MiGHTv  God. 


LESSON    LXXXVIII. 
HOW  CYRUS  LAID  THE   CABLE. 

J.  O.  SAXE. 

1.  rtOME,  listen  all  unto  my  song; 

l^  It  is  no  silly  fable  ; 
'Tis  all  about  the  mighty  cord 
They  call  the  Atlantic  Cable, 

2.  Bold  Cyrus  Field,  he  said,  says  he, 

"  I  have  a  pretty  notion 
That  I  can  run  a  telegraph 
Across  the  Atlantic  Ocean." 

8.  Then  all  the  people  laughed,  and  said 
They'd  like  to  see  him  do  it ; 
He  might  get  half-seas-over,  but 
He  never  could  go  through  it. 

4.  To  carry  out  his  foolish  plan 

He  never  would  be  able  ; 
He  miglit  as  well  go  hang  himself 
With  his  Atlantic  Cable. 

5.  But  Cyrus  was  a  valiant  man, 

A  fellow  of  decision. 
And  heeded  not  their  mocking  words, 
Their  laughter  and  derision. 


296  SANDERS'  UNION   SEKIES. 

6.  Twice  did  his  bravest  efforts  fail, 

And  yet  liis  mind  was  stable  ; 
He  wasn't  the  man  to  break  liis  heart 
Because  he  broke  his  cable. 

7.  "  Once  more,  my  gallant  boys !  "  he  cried ; 

*'  Three  times  !  —  you  know  the  fable,  — 
(ril  make  it  thirty^''  muttered  he, 
"  But  I  will  lay  this  cable  !  ") 

8.  Once  more  they  tried,  —  Jiurrafi!  hurrah  ! 

What  means  this  great  commotion  ? 
The  Lord  be  praised  !  the  cable's  laid 
Across  the  Atlantic  Ocean  ! 

9.  Loud  ring  the  bells  !  —  for,  flashing  through 

Six  hundred  leagues  of  water, 
Old  Mother  England's  benison 
Salutes  her  eldest  daughter  1 


•j=> 


10.  O'er  all  the  land  the  tidings  sped  ; 

And  soon,  in  every  nation, 
They'll  hear  about  the  cable  with 
Profoundest  admiration  ! 

11.  Now  lonor  live  all  the  noble  souls 

Who  helped  our  gallant  Cyrus  ! 
And  may  their  com'age,  faith,  and  zeal. 
With  emulation  fire  us  ! 

12.  And  may  we  honor  evermore 

The  manly,  bold,  and  stable ; 
And  tell  our  sons,  to  make  them  brave, 
How  Cyrus  laid  the  cable ! 


UNION  FIFTH  READEE.  297 


LESSON   LXXXIX. 

*  Trot's  exiled  bands,  J^neas  and  liis  followers,  who,  after  the  destruc- 

tion of  Troy  by  the  Greeks,  built  ships,  and  in  search  of  Italy,  their 
destined  land,  were  tossed  and  harassed  by  unpropitious  winds,  caused 
by  the  wrath  of  Juno.  The  wanderings  and  trials  of  ^neas  constitute 
the  theme  of  Virgil's  ^neid. 

-  Gen'  o  a's  god-like  child,  Columbus,  a  native  of  Genoa.  See  note,  page 
161. 

^  May'  flow  er,  the  name  of  the  a'CSScI  in  which  the  Pilgrims  sailed  to  Amer- 
ica.    They  landed  on  Plymouth  Eock,  Dec.  11,  1020. 

*  Frank'  lin.     See  note,  page  145. 

*  Morse,  the  inventor  of  the  Telegraph,  as  used  in  the  United  States. 

THE  ATLANTIC   TELEGRAPH. 

(Successfully  laid  between  Europe  and  America  July  27,  1866.) 

REV.  GEORGE   LANSING  TAYLOR. 

1.  Glory  to  God  above  ! 

Tlie  Lord  of  Life  and  love ! 
Who  makes  His  curtains  clouds  and  waters  dark  ; 

Wlio  s])reads  His  chambers  on  the  deep, 

While  all  its  armies  silence  keep  ; 
Whose  hand  of  old,  world-rescuing,  steered  the  ark ; 

Who  led  Troy's  bands ^  exiled. 

And  Genoa's  god-like  child,^ 

And  Mayflower,^  grandly  wild. 
And  now  has  guided  safe  a  grander  Bark ; 

Who,  from  her  iron  loins. 

Has  spun  the  thread  that  joins 
Two  yearning  worlds  made  one  with  lightnihg  spark. 

2:  Praise  God  !  praise  God  !  praise  God  ! 

The  sea  obeyed  His  rod, 
What  time  His  saints  marched  down  its  deeps  of  yore ; 


^98  SANDERS'   UNION   SERIES. 

And  now  for  Commerce,  Science,  Peace, 
Redemption,  Freedom,  Love's  increase. 
He  bids  great  Ocean's  barriers  cease. 

While  flames  celestial  flash  from  shore  to  shore  ! 

And  nations  pause  'mid  battles'  deadliest  roar, 

Till  Earth's  one  heart  swells  upward,  and  brims  o'er 
With  thanks  !  thanks!  thanks,  and  praise  ! 
To  Him  who  lives  always ! 
Who  reigns  through  endless  days ! 
While  halleluiahs  sweet 
Roll  up  as  incense  meet. 

And  all  Earth's  crowns  are  cast  before  His  feet ! 

3  "And  there  was  no  more  sea," 
Spake  in  rapt  vision  he 

Who  "  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  "  beheld ! 
And  lo  !  we  see  the  day 
That  ends  its  weltering  sway, 

And  weds  the  nations,  long  asunder  held ! 
Twelve  years  of  toil,  of  failure,  fear, 
Thousands  to  scorn  and  few  to  cheer, 
What  are  they  now  to  ears  that  hear, 
To  eyes  that  see  their  triumph  near? 

When  lightning-flames  the  ends  of  earth  shall  weld. 

And  wrong  and  right,  by  lightning  beams  dispelled, 
Shall  lift  from  all  man's  race. 
And  God  the  Father's  face 

Shall  smile  o'er  all  the  world  millennial  grace  I 

4  Franklin  ^ !  and  Morse  ^  I  and  Field  ! 
Great  shades  of  centuries  yield  ! 

Make  way  for  these  in  your  sublimest  throng ! 
Heroes  of  blood,  great  in  immortal  wrong. 


UNION   FIFTH  EEADER.  299 

Stoop  your  helmed  heads,  and  blush  !     O  seers  of  song ! 
Of  blood  and  strife  no  longer  sing ; 
In  heaven  Her  transport  smite  the  string ; 
Soar,  soar  on  purer,  rapter  wing, 
Till  all  the  throbbing  azure  ring 

The  song  that  erst  began  :  — 
"  Good  will  and  peace  toward  man," 
Redeemed  and  bought  with  blood, 
One  mighty  brotherhood ! 
And  every  bond  that  brings  heart  nearer  heart, 
Shall  bring  man  nearer  God,  and  bear  a  part 

In  that  great  work  benign, — 
The  work  of  love,  that  makes  all  worlds  divine ! 


LESSON   XC. 

*  Or'  ptte  an,  pertaining  to  Orphcns,  one  of  the  ancient  Grecian  bards,  who 
is  fabled  to  have  tamed  the  wildest  animals  by  the  music  of  his  lyre. 
Hence,  an  Orphean  song  is  one  that  charms  like  the  strains  of  Orpheus. 

2  An^  ti  podes  or  An  tip'o  des  (anti,  opposite  or  against;  podes,  feet;) 
with  feet  opposite.  People  who  live  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  globe, 
and  whose  feet  are,  of  course,  directly  opposite  to  the  feet  of  those  who 
live  on  this  side. 

THE  ELECTRIC   TELEGRAPH. 

ANON. 

1-  TTARK  !  the  warning  needles  click, 
XJ_  Hither  —  thither  —  clear  and  quick. 
He  who  guides  their  speaking  play. 
Stands  a  thousand  miles  away ! 
Here  we  feel  the  electric  thrill 
Guided  by  his  simple  will ; 


300  SANDERS'  UNION   SEKIES. 

Here  the  instant  message  read, 
Brought  with  more  than  hghtning  speed. 

Sing  who  will  of  Or'phe-an  ^  lyre, 
Ours  the  wonder-working  wire ! 

2.  Let  the  sky  be  dark  or  clear, 
Comes  the  faithful  messenger ; 
Now  it  tells  of  loss  and  grief. 
Now  of  joy  in  sentence  brief, 

•Now  of  safe  or  sunken  ships. 
Now  the  murderer  outstrips. 
Now  of  war  and  fields  of  blood. 
Now  of  fire,  and  now  of  flood. 

Sing  who  will  of  Orphean  lyre, 
Ours  the  wonder-working  wire  ! 

3.  Think  the  thought,  and  speak  the  word, 
It  is  caught  as  soon  as  heard, 

Borne  o'er  mountains,  lakes,  and  seas, 
To  the  far  an-tip'  o-des ;  ^ 
Boston  speaks  at  twelve  o'clock, 
Natchez  reads  ere  noon  the  shock. 
Seems  it  not  a  feat  sublime'  ? 
Intellect  has  conquered  Time  ! 

Sing  who  will  of  Orphean  lyre, 
Ours  the  wonder-working  wire  I 

4.  Marvel  I  triumph  of  our  day. 
Flash  all  ignorance  away  !  - 
Flash  sincerity  of  speech. 
Noblest  aims  to  all  who  teach  ; 
Flash  till  Power  shall  learn  the  Right, 
Flash  till  Reason  conquer  Might ; 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEB.  301 

Flash  resolve  to  every  mind ; 

Manhood  flash  to  all  mankind ! 

Sing  who  will  of  Orphean  lyre, 
Ours  the  wonder-working  wire  ! 


LESSON   XCI. 

^  Se'  lah,  a  word  of  doubtful  meaning,  by  some  supposed  to  indicate  special 
attention  to  the  subject ;  by  others,  to  signify  silence  or  a  pause  in  the 
musical  performance"  of  the  song  while  the  instrumental  performers 
played  some  variation  or  intervening  melody. 

BEATITUDES. 


In  reading  these  sentences,  an  excellent  effect  may  be  produced  by  divid- 
ing the  class  equally  into  two  parts,  and  letting  one  part  read,  in  concert,  the 
line  or  lines  marked  \st  Voice;  and  the  other  part,  the  line  or  lines  marked 
2d  Voice ;  or  one  pupil  may  read  that  part  marked  \st  Voice,  and  the  next 
pupil  the  part  marked  2c?  Voice,  alternately. 

\st  Voice.  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit ; 

2d  Voice,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

1  V.  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn ; 

2  V.  for  they  shall  be  comforted. 

1  V.  Blessed  are  the  meek; 

2  V.  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth. 

1  V.  Blessed  are  they  which  do  hunger  and  thirst 

after  righteousness ; 

2  V.  for  they  shall  be  filled. 

1  V.  Blessed  are  the  merciful ; 

2  V,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy. 

1  V.  Blessed  are  the  pure  In  heart ; 

2  V.  for  they  shall  see  God. 


302  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

1  V.  Blessed  are  the  peace-makers  ; 

2  V,  for  thej  shall  be  called  the  children  of  God. 

1  V.  Blessed   are   they  which  are  persecuted  for  right- 

eousness' sake ; 

2  V.  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

1  V.  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  revile  you,  and  per- 

secute  you,    and   shall  say  all   manner  of  evil 
against  you  falsely,  for  my  sake. 

2  V,  Rejoice,  and  be  exceeding  glad ;   for  great  is  your 

reward  in  heaven. 

1  V,  Blessed  is  he  that  considereth  the  poor : 

2  K  the  Lord  will  deliver  him  in  time  of  trouble. 

1  V,  Blessings  are  upon  the  head  of  the  just , 

2  V,  but  violence  covereth  the  mouth  of  the  wicked. 

1  V.  The  memory  of  the  just  is  blessed  ; 

2  F".  but  the  name  of  the  wicked  shall  rot. 

1  V.  Blessed  are  they  that  dwell  in  thy  house  ; 

2  F".  they  will  be  still  praising  thee.     Selah.^ 

1  V.  Blessed  are  the  people  that  know  the  joyful  sound  ; 

2  V,  they  shall  walk,  O  Lord !  in  the  light  of  thy  coun- 

tenance. 

1  V.  Blessed  is  the  man  that  feareth  the  Lord,  that  de- 

lighteth  greatly  in  His  commandments. 

2  V.  His  seed  shall  be  mighty  upon  the  earth  ;  the  gen- 

eration of  the  upright  shall  be  blessed. 

1  V.  Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel 

of  the    ungodly,  nor   standeth    in   the    way  of 
shiners,  nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful. 

2  F".  But  his  delight  is  in  the  law  of  the  Lord ;  and  in 

His  law  doth  he  meditate  day  and  night. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  303 

1  V.  Blessed  is  the  man  that  heareth  me,  watching  daily 

at  my  gates,  waiting  at  the  posts  of  my  doors. 

2  F.  For  whoso  findeth  me,  findeth  life,  and  shall  obtain 

favor  of  the  Lord. 

1  F.  Blessed  is  the  man  that  trusteth  in  the  Lord,  and 

whose  hope  the  Lord  is. 

2  F.    For  he  shall  be  as  a  tree  planted  by  the  waters,  and 

that  spreadeth  out  her  roots  by  the  river,  and 
shall  not  see  when  heat  cometh. 

1  F.  Blessed  is    that  servant,  whom  his  lord,  when  he 

cometh,  shall  find  so  doing. 

2  F.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  that  he  shall  make  him'  ruler 

over  all  his  goods. 

1  F".  Blessed  is  the  man  that  endureth  temptation  ; 

2  F.  for,  when  he  is  tried,  he  shall  receive  the  crown  of 

life,  which  the  Lord  hath  promised  to  them  that 
love  Him. 

1  F.  Blessed  are  the  dead  which    die  in  the  Lord  from 

henceforth : 

2  F.  Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their 

labors,  and  their  works  do  follow  them. 

1  F.  Blessed  and  holy  is  he  that  hath  part  in  the  first  res- 

urrection : 

2  F.  on  such  the  second  death  hath  no  power. 

1  F.  Blessed  are  they  that  do  His  commandments  ; 

2  F,  that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree  of  life,  and 

may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the  city. 

1  F.  Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  of  Israel  from  everlasting 

to  everlasting;. 

2  F.  Amen,  and  Amen  ! 


304  SANDEES'  UNION  SEEIES. 


LESSON  XCII.    . 

*  Kep'ler,  see  note,  page  157. 

*  Brahe,  Tycho,  a  distinguished  astronomer,  was  born  Dec.   14,  1546; 

and  died  Oct.  24,  1601.     The  celebrated  Observatory  of  Oranienberg, 
or  the  city  of  the  heavens,  was  founded  in  1576,  and  supplied  with  instru- 
ments.    Within  its  walls,  Tycho  Brahe  carried  on  those  observations 
with  which  his  name  is  inseparably  connected. 
'  New'  ton,  see  note,  page  94. 

*  Pope,  Alexander,  a  celebrated   English  poet,  was  born  in  London, 

1688;  and  died  1744.  He  was  deformed,  and  small  in  stature.  The 
principal  of  his  poetical  writings  are  entitled  "  Essay  on  Criticism," 
"Essay  on  Man,"  "Moral  Essays."  He  also  translated  the  Iliad  and 
Odyssey  of  Homer. 

*  Arctu'rus,  a  fixed  star  of  the    first  magnitude  in   the  constellation 

Bootes. 

*  Nept'  une,  a  large  planet  beyond  Uranus,  discovered  by  Galle  of  Berlin, 

Sept.  23,  1846.  Its  mean  distance  from  the  sun  is  2,850,000,000 
miles,  and  its  period  of  revolution  is  about  164  years. 

THE  PRIDE   OF  IGNORANCE. 

S.  W.  TAYLOR. 

TELL  me  not  of  tlie  pride  of  scientific  men  !  We  have, 
it  is  true,  some  few  cases  of  the  pride  of  learning,  but 
a  multitude  of  the  pride  of  ignorance.  The  grossly  igno- 
rant man,  imagining  himself  placed  at  the  very  center  of 
the  earth's  fancied  plane,  and  exactly  beneath  the  highest 
point  in  heaven's  arch,  with  arms  akimbo,  struts  forth,  as 
the  principal  occupant  of  the  material  universe.  This  is 
manifest  to  common  observation.  Something  like  this  is 
also  seen  among  the  different  classes  in  the  same  school, 
and  in  communities,  among  individuals  of  different  grades 
of  civilization. 

2.  An  accurate  knoAvledge  of  men  and  things,  naturally 
represses  pride  and  promotes  Jiumility.  The  diligent  stu- 
dent of  Nature,  as  he  gains  a  deeper  and  deeper  knowledge 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  305 

of  the  great  book  of  God's  wisdom,  goodness,  and  power, 
necessarily  sees  all  finite  glory  dwindling  and  fading ;  ho 
mnst  see  himself,  too,  depreciating  in  comparison  with  the 
extent  and  grandeur  of  the  objects  Avhich  successively  oc- 
cupy his  vast  and  illuminated  field  of  view.  It  is  evident, 
that  the  more  we  learn  of  what  other  men  have  accom- 
plished in  pursuits  and  circumstances  like  our  own,  and 
the  more  clearly  Ave  discover  how  much  we  depend  on 
others  for  what  we  possess  and  accomplish,  the  more  effect- 
ually will  our  humility  be  cultivated. 

3.  The  philosopher  is  in  circumstances  peculiarly  favor- 
able to  make  him  feel  and  acknowledge  his  heavy  indebt- 
edness to  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries.  He  can 
not  fail  of  being  convinced,  that,  were  any  generation  of 
men  entirely  destitute  of  transmitted  knowledge,  they  could 
hardly,  within  the  ordinary  limits  of  human  life,  find  time 
to  clothe  themselves^  and  erect  permanent  dwellings.  They 
must  commence  life  as  savages,  and,  at  death,  have  nothing 
better  than  blankets  and  Avigwams  to  bequeath  to  their 
savage  successors. 

4.  Had  not  Kepler^  inherited  the  avails  of  Tycho 
Brahe's- labors  in  descriptive  astronomy,  it  is  certain  he 
could  never  have  been  distinguished  in  physical  astronomy, 
as  the  legislator  of  the  skies.  Without  a  legacy  from  his 
ancestors,  even  Newton^  must  have  been  comparatively 
poor  ;  and  the  scientific  wealth  amassed  and  transmitted  by 
Newton  and  others,  has  been  the  making  of  their  heirs,  now 
the  illustrious  philosophers  of  Europe  and  America. 

5.  But  if  you  chance  to  meet  with  a  stubborn  case  of 
pride  in  a  philosopher,  do  not  hastily  dismiss  the  case  a» 
incurable.     He  can  be  cured  of  any  extraordinary  degreo' 
of  pride,  if  he  has  a  breath  of  the  spirit  of  true  philosophy. 
But  do  nothing,  I  beseech  you,  to  lessen  his  amount  of  sci- 

20 


806  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

ence ;  rather  follow  the  good  old  specific  of  Pope :  ^  Give 
him  to  drink  more  deeply.  Direct  his  attention  to  the 
treasures  of  science  already  amassed. 

6.  Show  him  the  schools,  the  laboratories,  and  observa- 
tories of  Europe  and  the  United  States  of  America ;  show 
him  their  libraries,  whose  shelves  are  bending  beneath  pon- 
derous tomes,  the  faithful  records  of  literary  and  philosophic- 
al research  ;  show  him  the  rich  gifts. of  science  to  agricult- 
ure, commerce,  and  the  whole  sisterhood  of  the  arts  of 
peace  ;  show  him  not  only  what  has  been  accomplished, 
but  show  him  every  enlightened  part  of  the  earth,  at  this 
moment  busy  as  a  bee-hive  in  all  the  departments  of  phi- 
losophy. 

7.  Then  conduct  him  into  those  extensive  fields  of  sober 
enterprise  which  sound  philosophy  has  projected,  and  you 
give  him  the  position  which  Newton  held  when  under  the 
conviction  that  all  wdiich  philosophy  has  done^  in  compari- 
son with  what  it  is  destined  to  accomplish  in  ages  to  come, 
amounts  to  nothing  more  than  the  examination  of  a  few 
pebbles  and  pearls  thrown  upon  the  shore  of  a  broad  ocean, 
from  the  undiminished  treasures  of  its  immense  bed. 

8.  If  our  patient  is  not  yet  recovered,  immerse  him  in 
the  great  deep  of  space.  Show  him  something  of  the  ex- 
tent of  JehovaKs  ivorks.  Bid  him  look  at  himself,  and  then 
at  the  earth,  Avhose  extended  radius  spreads  the  earth's  sur- 
face into  an  apparent  plain.  Next,  equip  him  with  the 
quick  wings  of  light,  putting  him  upon  a  rate  of  traveling 
equivalent  to  twenty-four  diameters  of  the  earth  in  a  sin- 
gle second.  Within  eight  minutes  he  finds  himself  alight- 
ing upon  the  sun,  compared  with  which,  instead  of  the 
earth  as  a  standard  of  bulk,  he  has  the  mortification  to 
perceive  that  his  body  has  shrunk  from  the  dimensions  of 
three  cubic  feet  to  the  one  two-hundredth  part  of  a  cubic 
inch,  — physically. J  a  contemptible  insect ! 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  307 

9.  Here  let  him  stop  long  enough  to  ask  the  question, 
which  milHons  of  years  will  not  answer,  —  "What  won- 
ders, what  treasures,  are  contained  m  that  deep  ocean  of 
light  ? "  Thence  let  him,  witli  undiminished  velocity, 
speed  his  way  to  Sirius,*  whose  matchless  orb,  at  the  end, 
perhaps,  of  a  three-years'  flight,  he  beholds  under  his  feet, 
exei  ting  upon  a  splendid  retinue  of  planets,  in  the  powers 
of  light,  heat,  and  gravitation,  the  energy  of  fourteen  suns, 
such  as  the  one  in  whose  light  we  are  rejoicing. 

10.  If  still  there  is  anything  of  our  philosopher's  jt?nc?e 
or  of  himself  remaining,  let  him  range  himself  within  the 
sublime  circumference  of  the  galaxy ;  let  him,  with  the 
most  powerful  telescope  in  use,  spy  out  some  faint  nebula 
most  delicately  fringing  the  absurdly  imagined  borders  of 
infinity,  and  not  unlike  the  subtle  vapor  which  the  keen- 
eyed  little  girl  can  possibly  discern  issuing  from  the  throat 
of  the  singing-sparrow.  But  send  him  not  thither  with 
only  the  speed  of  light ;  for,  with  iliat^  thousands  of  years 
might  not  suffice  for  the  journey.  Give  him,  rather,  the 
mysterious  power  of  the  imagination^  by  which  he  can  as- 
sume, with  equal  facility,  and  in  equal  time,  stations  indefi- 
nitely near,  and  infinitely  remote. 

11.  From  the  station  first  assumed,  he  sees  that  nebula 
resolved  into  brilliant  points  ;  from  the  next,  he  sees  each 
of  those  points  bright  as  Arcturus^  or  Capella ;  and,  from 
the  next  station,  he  beholds  it  a  glorious  sun!  What  had 
been  deemed  the  center  and  circumference  of  the  material 
universe,  have  reciprocated  their  positions  ;  and,  from  one 
of  those  foreign  suns,  he  looks  back  after  the  locality  of 
his  native  earth  ;  when,  lo  !  the  vast  orbit  of  Neptune^  has 
closed  in  upon  the  focus  occupied  by  our  sun  ;  the  sun 
himself  has  dwindled  to  a  point,  —  ihut  point  has  vanished, 

*  Sir'  I  us,  the  large,  bright  star  called  the  Dog-star. 


308  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

and  taken  with  it  all  earth-born  philosophers,  with  their 
works,  the  scene  of  their  labors,  and  the  entire  sphere  of 
their  observation.  How,  naturally^  must  our  philosopher 
now  adopt  the  language  of  the  sublime  prophet  with  ref- 
erence to  the  infinite  Creator! — "  All  nations  before  Him 
are  as  nothing,  and  they  are  counted  to  Him  less  than 
nothing,  and  vanity."  * 


LESSON    XCIII. 

^  Ar  CHI  me'des,  the  most  celebrated  of  the  ancient  geometers,  was  born 
at  Syracuse  about  291  years  b.c.  ;  and  died  212  b.c.  He  was  related 
to  Hiero,  King  of  Syracuse,  Avho  deemed  it  a  great  honor  to  have  so 
distinguished  a  philosopher  as  his  relative.  He  devoted  his  time  to  the 
cultivation  of  mathematical  and  physical  sciences.  He  invented  the 
screw  for  raising  water,  which  bears  his  name ;  and  Ave  owe  to  him 
the  process  of  detecting  the  adulteration  of  the  precious  metal  in  King 
Hicro's  crown.  Such  was  his  joy  at  this  discovery,  it  is  said  he  rushed 
through  the  streets  of  Syracuse  in  a  state  of  nudity,  exclaiming, — 
"  Eureka,  Eureka  ! "  —  "/  have  found,  I  have  found!  " 

2  Em  py  re'  an,  the  highest  heaven,  where  the  pure  element  of  fire  was  sup- 
posed by  the  ancients  to  subsist. 

.*  Pha'  e  ton,  the  son  of  Phoebus  and  Clymene,  or  of  Cephalus  and  Aurora, 
that  is,  the  son  of  light,  or  of  the  sun.  He  is  fabled  to  have  begged  of 
Phoebus  that  he  would  permit  him  to  guide  the  chariot  of  the  sun  ;  in 
doing  which  he  manifested  want  of  skill ;  and,  being  struck  with  a 
thunderbolt  by  Jupiter,  he  was  hurled  headlong  into  the  River  Po. 

SCIENCE   AND   ART. 

D.   BREW^STEU. 

IN  the  study  of  natural  philosophy,  chemistry,  and  natu- 
ral history,  a  wide  field  of  knowledge  will  be  spread 
out  before  you,  in  Avhich  every  fact  you  observe,  and  every 
truth  you  learn,  will  surprise  and  delight  you.  Creations 
of  boundless  extent,  displaying  unlimited  power,  matchless 

♦  Isaiah,  40th  chapter,  17  th  verse. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  809 

wisdom,  and  overflowing  beneficence,  will,  at  every  step, 
surround  you.  The  infinitely  great  and  the  infinitely  little 
will  compete  for  your  admiration  ;  and,  in  contemplating 
the  great  scheme  of  creation  which  these  inquiries  present 
to  your  minds,  you  will  not  overlook  the  almost  superhu- 
man power  by  which  it  has  been  developed. 

2.  Fixed  upon  the  pedestal  of  his  native  earth,  and  with 
no  other  instrument  but  the  eye  and  the  hand,  the  genius 
of  man  has  penetrated  the  dark  and  distant  recesses  of 
time  and  space.  The  finite  has  comprehended  the  in- 
finite. The  being  of  a  day  has  pierced  backwards  into 
primeval  tiyne^  deciphering  the  subterranean  monuments, 
and  inditing  its  chronicle  of  countless  ages.  In  the 
rugged  crust  and  shattered  pavement  of  our  globe,  he  has 
detected  those  gigantic  forces  by  which  our  seas  and  conti- 
nents have  changed  places,  —  by  which  our  mountain 
ranges  have  emerged  from  the  bed  of  the  ocean,  —  by 
which  the  gold,  and  the  silver,  the  coal,  and  the  iron,  and 
the  lime,  have  been  thrown  into  the  hands  of  man  as  the 
materials  of  civilization,  —  and  by  which  mighty  cycles 
of  animal  and  vegetable  life  have  been  embalmed  and 
entombed. 

3.  In  your  astronomical  studies^  the  Earth  on  which  you 
dwell  will  stand  forth  in  space  a  suspended  ball,  taking  its 
place  as  one  of  the  smallest  of  the  planets,  and  like  them 
pursuing  its  appointed  path,  —  the  arbiter  of  times  and 
seasons.  Beyond  our  planetary  system,  now  extended,  by 
the  discovery  of  Neptune,  to  nearly  three  thousand  mill- 
ions of  miles  from  the  sun,  and  throughout  the  vast  ex- 
panse of  the  universe,  the  telescope  will  exhibit  to  you 
new  suns  and  systems  of  worlds,  infinite  in  number  and 
variety,  sustaining,  doubtless,  myriads  of  living  beings,  and 
presenting  new  spheres  for  the  exercise  of  divine  power 
and  beneficence.  .  .  . 


810  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

4.  The  advances  which  have  recently  been  made  in  the 
mechanical  and  useful  arts,  have  already  begun  to  influence 
our  social  condition,  and  must  affect  still  more  deeply  our 
systems  of  education.  The  knowledge  which  used  to  con- 
stitute a  scholar,  and  fit  him  for  social  and  intellectual  in- 
tercourse, will  not  avail  him  under  the  present  ascendency 
of  practical  science.  New  and  gigantic  inventions  mark 
almost  every  passing  year,  —  the  colossal  tubular  bridge^ 
conveying  the  monster  train  over  an  arm  of  the  sea, —  the 
submarine  cable,  carrying  the  pulse  of  speech  beneath  two 
thousand  miles  of  ocean,  —  the  monster  ship  freighted  with 
thousands  of  lives,  ^  and  the  huge  rifle-gun,  throwing  its 
fatal  charge  across  miles  of  earth  or  9f  ocean. 

5.  New  ai'ts,  too,  useful  and  ornamental,  have  sprung 
up  luxuriantly  around  us.  New  powers  of  Nature  have 
been  evoked,  and  man  communicates  with  man  across  seas 
and  continents  with  more  certainty  and  speed  than  if  he 
liad  been  endowed  with  the  velocity  of  the  race-horse,  or 
provided  with  the  pinions  of  the  eagle.  Wherever  we 
are,  in  short,  art  and  science  surround  us.  They  have 
given  birth  to  new  and  lucrative  professions.  Whatever 
we  purpose  to  do,  they  help  us.  In  our  houses,  they  greet 
us  with  light  and  heat.  When  we  travel,  we  find  them  at 
every  stage  on  land,  and  at  every  harbor  on  our  shores. 
They  stand  beside  our  board  by  day,  and  beside  our  couch 
by  night. 

6.  To  our  thoughts  they  give  the  speed  of  lightning ; 
and  to  our  time-pieces,  the  punctuality  of  the  sun  ;  and 
though  they  can  not  provide  us  with  the  boasted  lever  of 
Archimedes^  to  move  the  earth,  or  indicate  the  spot  upon 
which  we  must  stand,  could  we  do  it,  they  have  put  into 
our  hands  tools  of  matchless  power,  by  which  we  can  study 
the  remotest  worlds ;  and  they  have  furnished  us  with  an 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEE.  311 

intellectual  plummet^  by  which  we  can  sound  the  depths  of 
the  earth,  and  count  the  cycles  of  its  endurance. 

7.  In  his  hour  of  presumption  and  ignorance,  man  has 
tried  to  do  more  than  this ;  but,  though  he  was  not  per- 
mitted to  reach  the  heavens  with  his  cloud-capped  tower 
of  stone,  and  has  tried  in  vain  to  navigate  the  aerial  ocean^ 
it  was  given  him  to  ascend  into  the  empyrean^  by  chains 
of  thought  which  no  lightning  could  fuse,  and  no  comet 
strike ;  and  though  he  has  not  been  allowed  to  grasp  with 
an  arm  of  flesh  the  products  of  other  worlds,  or  tread  upon 
the  pavement  of  gigantic  planets,  he  has  been  enabled  to 
scan,  with  more  than  an  eagle's  eye,  the  mighty  creations 
in  the  bosom  of  space,  —  to  march  intellectaally  over  the 
mosaics  of  sidereal  systems,  and  to  follow  the  adventurous 
Phaeton^  in  a  chariot  which  can  never  be  overturned. 


LESSON    XCIY. 

^  Gaul,  a  native  or  inhabitant  of  Gaul,  the  name  anciently  given  to  France. 

^  Goth,  one  of  an  ancient  tribe  or  nation,  of  Asiatic  origin,  who  overran 

the  Roman  Empire,  and  took  an  important  part  in  its  subversion. 

ADVANCE. 

D.  F.  MCCARTHY. 

1.   C\  OD  bade  the  Sun  with  golden  step  sublmie 
\X  Advance ! 

He  whispered  in  the  listening  ear  of  Time, 

Advance  ! 
He  bade  the  guiding  Spirit  of  the  stars. 
With  lightning  speed,  in  silver-shining  cars, 
Along  the  bright  floor  of  his  azure  hall 

Advance  ! 
Sun,  Stars,  and  Time  obey  the  voice,  and  all 

Advance  ! 


312  .     SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

2.  The  river  at  its  bubbling  fountain  cries, 

Advance  ! 
The  clouds  proclaim,  like  heralds,  through  the  skies, 

Advance  ! 
Throughout  the  world,  the  mighty  Master's  laws 
Allow  not  one  brief  moment's  idle  pause ; 
The  earth  is  full  of  life,  —  the  swelling  seeds 

Advance  ! 
And  summer  hours,  like  flowery  harnessed  steeds, 

Advance  ! 


p' 


To  man's  most  wondrous  hand  the  sam.e  voice  crie^ 

Advance  I 
Go,  clear  the  woods,  and  o'er  the  bounding  tide 

Advance  ! 
Go,  draw  tlie  marble  from  its  secret  bed, 
And  make  the  cedar  bend  its  giant  head ; 
Let  domes  and  columns  through  the  wandering  air 

Advance  ! 
The  world,  O  man  !  is  thine.    But  wouldst  thou  sliax^e? 

Advance ! 

Unto  the  soul  of  man  the  same  voice  spoke, 

Advance  ! 
From  out  the  chaos  thunder-like  it  broke. 

Advance  ! 
Go,  track  the  comet  in  its  wheeling  race, 
And  drag  the  lightning  from  its  hiding-place  ; 
From  out  the  night  of  ignorance  and  tears, 

Advance  ! 
For  love  and  hope,  borne  by  the  coming  years, 

Advance  I 


UNION  FIFTH   EEADER.  813 

6.  All  heard,  and  some  obeyed,  the  great  command, 

Advance  ! 
It  passed  along  from  listening  land  to  land, 

Adv  ance  ! 
The  strong  grew  stronger,  and  the  weak  grew  strong, 
As  passed  the  war-cry  of  the  world  along,  — 
Awake,  ye  nations  !  know  your  powers  and  riglits  ; 

Advance  ! 
Through  Hope  and  Work,  to  Freedom's  new  delights, 

Advance ! 

6.  Knowledge  came  down,  and  waved  her  steady  torch, 

Advance  ! 
Sages  proclaimed,  'neath  many  a  marble  j)orch. 

Advance  ! 
As  rapid  lightning  leaps  from  peak  to  peak, 
Tlie  Gaul,*  the  Goth,^  the  Roman,  and  the  Greek, 
The  painted  Briton,  caught  the  winged  word, 

Advance  ! 
And  earth  grew  young,  and  caroled  as  a  bird, 

Advance ! 


LESSON   XCY. 

THE   POLAR  STAR. 

WESTBY  GIBSON. 

1.  CJTAR  of  the  North,  whose  clear,  cold  light 
KJ    Breaks  on  the  darkness  of  the  sky, 
When  solemn-paced  the  pilgrim  Night 

In  silence  journeys  by ! 
Watcher  by  heaven's  embattled  walls, 
How  far  through  Nature's  circle  falls 

The  radiance  of  thine  eye  ? 

14 


814  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

Thou  center-point  of  myriad  spheres, 
Through  aged  Time's  gi'ay  round  of  years  I 

2.  Bright  dweller  by  the  unfooted  North, 
New  light  hath  ever  clothed  thy  face, 
Since  the  high  God  first  launched  thee  forth 

Into  the  boundless  space  ; 
Mountains  have  from  their  base  been  cast,  — 
Earthquakes  have  opened  caverns  vast,  — 

Old  Ocean  changed  its  place  ; 
Nations  and  tribes  of  star-bright  fame 
Have  perished,  —  thou  art  still  the  same  I 

8.  Thy  glance  is  ever  bold  and  bright,  — 
Thou  never  weariest  in  thy  task ; 
What  time  departs  the  sable  night, 

And  morn  with  rosy  mask 
Glides  on  through  clouds,  like  hills  of  snow, 
Or,  in  the  noontide's  passionate  glow. 

All  earth  and  ocean  bask  ; 
Till  westward,  down  the  reddening  air 
Drops  the  round  sun,  —  thou  still  art  there  ! 

4.  Long  wert  thou  worshiped  as  a  guide 
By  the  bold  dwellers  on  the  sea, 
Where  neither  mark  nor  track  abide,  — 

Changefully  eternally ! 
When  o'er  them  crept  the  night-hours  dark. 
Through  the  wide  waste  they  urged  the  bark. 

By  science  won  from  thee, 
Till  the  dark  presence  of  the  storm 
Smote  from  their  eyes  thy  beaming  form. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  315 


Wliat  ages  from  von  arctic  bed 


» 


Hath  thy  deep-fountained  radiance  shone ! 
Nor  may  that  golden  flame  be  dead 

So  long  as  Time  rolls  on  ; 
But  still,  Avith  clear  and  steadfast  rays, 
Emblem  that  faith  by  Avhich  we  gaze 

On  the  Eternal  One,  — 
The  beacon  by  whose  light  we  ride, 
Triumphing  o'er  Life's  dangerous  tide. 

O  brio;ht  and  beautiful !  in  thee 

We  read  God's  love  —  His  power,  how  strong, 
That  through  the  sky's  immensity 

Thy  giant  mass  out-flung ! 
So  distant  from  our  rolling  world. 
That,  were  thy  sphere  of  beauty  hurled 

From  the  resounding  throng. 
Thousands  of  years  might  pass  away 
Ere  thine  old  realm  in  darkness  lay. 


LESSON   XCYI.  - 

^  O  lym'  pi  an,  pertaining'  to  Olymjius,  a  mountain  in  Thessaly,  the  fabled 

abode  of  the  gods. 
'  Ti'  TANS,  giants  of  ancient  mythology,  enormous  in  size  and  strength. 
^  Si'  na  1,  a  mountain  in  the  peninsula  of  Arabia,  from  the  summit  of 

which  God  published  his  law  to  the  Israelites. 
'  Cal'  va  ry,  the  name  given  to  a  slight  elevation  north  of  the  ancient  city 

of  Jerusalem,  perhaps  half  a  mile  distant  from  the  temple,  and  noted 

as  the  place  of  the  crucifixion  of  Christ. 
^  A  poc  A  I  ifp'  TIC,  ])ertaining  to  the  Revelation  of  St.  John,  in  Patmos, 

near  th  i  close  of  the  first  century. 


816  SANDEBS'  UNION  SERIES. 


MOUNTAINS. 

E.  M.  MORSE. 


MOUI^TAINS!  who  was  your  Builder?  Who  laid 
your  awful  foundations  in  the  central  fires,  and  piled 
your  rocks  and  snow-capped  summits  among  the  clouds  ? 
Who  placed  you  in  the  gardens  of  the  world,  like  noble 
altars,  on  which  to  offer  the  sacrificial  gifts  of  many 
nations?  Who  reared  your  rocky  walls  in  the  barren 
desert,  like  towering  pyramids,  like  monumental  mounds, 
like  giants'  graves,  like  dismantled  piles  of  royal  ruins, 
telling  a  mournful  tale  of  glory,  once  bright,  but  now  fled 
forever,  as  flee  the  dreams  of  a  midsummer's  night? 
Who  gave  you  a  home  in  the  islands  of  the  sea,  —  those 
emeralds  that  gleam  among  the  waves,  —  those  stars  of 
ocean  that  mock  the  beauty  of  the  stars  of  night  ? 

2.  Mountains  !  I  know  who  built  you.  It  was  God  ! 
His  name  is  written  on  your  foreheads.  He  laid  your 
corner-stones  on  that  glorious  morning  when  the  orchestra 
of  Heaven  sounded  the  anthem  of  creation.  He  clothed 
your  high,  imperial  forms  in  royal  robes.  He  gave  you 
a  snowy  garment,  and  wove  for  you  a  cloudy  vail  of  crim- 
son and  gold.  He  crowned  you  with  a  diadem  of  icy 
jewels  ;  pearls  from  the  arctic  seas ;  gems  from  the  frosty 
pole.  Mountains  !  ye  are  glorious.  Ye  stretch  your  gran- 
ite arms  away  toward  the  vales  of  the  undiscovered ;  ye 
have  a  lonmns:  for  immortality. 

3.  But,  Mountains  !  ye  long  in  vain.  I  called  you  glo- 
rious, and  truly  ye  are  ;  but  your  glory  is  like  that  of  the 
starry  heavens,  —  it  shall  pass  away  at  the  trumpet-blast 
of  the  angel  of  the  Most  High.  And  yet  ye  are  worthy 
of  a  high  and  eloquent  eulogium.  Ye  were  the  lovers  of 
the  daughters  of  the  gods ;  ye  are  the  lovers  of  the  daugh- 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  317 

ters  of  Liberty  and  Religion  now ;  and  in  your  old  and 
feeble  age  the  children  of  the  skies  shall  honor  your  bald 
heads.  The  clouds  of  heaven  —  those  shadows  of  Olym- 
pian ^  power,  those  spectral  phantoms  of  dead  Titans  ^  — 
kiss  your  summits,  as  guardian  angels  kiss  the  brow  of 
infant  nobleness.  On  your  sacred  rocks  I  see  the  foot- 
prints  of  the  Creator ;  I  see  the  blazing  fires  of  Sinai,' 
and  hear  its  awful  voice ;  I  see  the  tears  of  Calvary,^  and 
listen  to  its  mighty  groans. 

4.  Mountains !  ye  are  proud  and  haughty  things.  Ye 
hurl  defiance  at  the  storm,  the  lightning,  and  the  wind ; 
ye  look  down  with  deep  disdain  upon  the  thunder-cloud ; 
ye  scorn  the  dev'astating  tempest ;  ye  despise  the  works  of 
puny  man  ;  ye  shake  your  rock-ribbed  sides  with  giant 
laughter,  wlien  the  great  earthquake  passes  by.  Ye  stand 
as  giant  sentinels,  and  seem  to  say  to  the  boisterous  bil- 
lows, — ''  Thus  far  shalt  thou  come,  and  here  shall  thy 
proud  waves  be  stayed  !  " 

5.  Mountains  i  ye  are  growing  old.  Your  ribs  of  gran- 
ite are  getting  w  eak  and  rotten  ;  your  muscles  are  losing 
their  fatness ;  your  hoarse  voices  are  heard  only  at  distant 
intervals  ;  your  volcanic  heart  throbs  feebly ;  and  your 
lava-blood  is  thickening,  as  the  winters  of  many  ages 
gather  their  chilling  snows  around  your  venerable  forms. 
The  brazen  sunlight  laughs  in  your  old  and  wrinkled  faces  ; 
the  pitying  moonlight  nestles  in  your  hoary  locks ;  and  the 
silvery  starlight  rests  upon  you  like  the  halo  of  inspiration 
that  crowned  the  heads  of  dying  patriarchs  and  prophetSo 
Mountains !  ye  must  die.  Okl  Father  Time,  that  sexton 
of  earth,  has  dug  you  a  deep,  dark  tomb ;  and  in  silence 
ye  shall  sleep  after  sea  and  shore  shall  have  been  pressed 
by  the  feet  of  the  apocalyptic^  angel,  through  the  long 
watches  of  an  eternal  night. 


318  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 


LESSON   XCYII. 

THE  ALPS. 

WILLIS  GAYLOKD   CLARK. 

1.   T)ROUD  monuments  of  God !  sublime  ye  stand 
X     Among  the  wonders  of  His  mighty  hand ; 
With  svimmits  soaring  in  the  upper  sky, 
Wliere  the  broad  day  looks  down  with  burning  eye ; 
Where  gorgeous  clouds  in  solemn  pomp  repose, 
Flinging  rich  shadows  on  eternal  snows : 
'  Piles  of  triumphant  dust,  ye  stand  alone. 
And  hold,  in  kingly  state,  a  peerless  throne ! 

2^,  Like  olden  conquerors,  on  high  ye  rear 
The  regal  ensign  and  the  glittering  spear : 
Round  icy  spires  the  mists,  in  wreaths  unrolled, 
Float  ever  near,  in  purple  or  in  gold ; 
.  And  voiceful  torrents,  sternly  rolling  there. 
Fill  with  wild  music  the  unpillared  air. 
What  garden  or  what  hall,  on  earth  beneath, 
Thrills  to  such  tones  as  o'er  the  mountains  breathe  ? 

8.  There,  through  long  ages  past,  those  summits  shone 
When  morning  radiance  on  their  state  was  thrown ; 
There,  when  the  summer-day's  career  was  done, 
Played  the  last  glory  of  the  sinking  sun  ; 
There,  sprinkling  luster  o'er  the  cataract's  shade, 
The  chastened  moon  her  glittering  rainbow  made ; 
And,  blent  with  pictured  stars,  her  luster  lay 
Where  to  still  vales  the  free  streams  leaped  away, 

4.  Where  are  the  thronging  hosts  of  other  days, 
Whose  banners  floated  o'er  the  Alpine  ways ; 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  319 

Who,  through  their  high  defiles,  to  battle  wound, 
While  deadly  ordnance  stirred  the  hights  around  ? 
Gone,  like  the  dream  that  melts  at  early  mom 
When  the  lark's  anthem  through  the  sky  is  borne ; 
Gone,  like  the  wrecks  that  sink  in  ocean's  spray ; 
And  chill  Oblivion  murmurs,  —  "  Where  are  they?" 

Yet  "  Alps  on  Alps  "  still  rise  ;  the  lofty  home 
Of  storms  and  eagles,  where  their  pinions  roam : 
Still  round  their  peaks  the  magic  colors  lie, 
Of  morn  and  eve,  imprinted  on  the  sky ; 
And  still,  while  kings  and  thrones  shall  fade  and  fall, 
And  empty  crowns  lie  dim  upon  the  pall, — 
Still  shall  their  glaciers  flash,  their  torrents  roar, 
Till  kingdoms  fail,  and  nations  rise  no  more. 


LESSON    XCVIIL 

DESIRE    TO    BE    REMEMBERED. 

FORGOTTEN  !  How  harshly  that  word  grates  upon  the 
ear !  With  what  icy  coldness  it  falls  on  the  heart ! 
How  we  shrink  from  the  thought,  that,  ere  long,  all  mem- 
ory of  us  will  have  faded  from  the  minds  of  men ;  that 
tiiere  will  be  a  time,  when,  of  all  who  love  us  now^  or 
who  ever  ivill  love  us,  not  one  will  be  left  to  tell  that  we 
existed;  when,  of  those  who  may  dwell  in  the  places  we 
now  occupy,  not  one  will  recognize  a  vestige  of  any  thing 
we  ever  did,  or  that  we  ever  lived  ! 

2.  To  BE  FORGOTTEN  ! — oh !  fearful  thought!  It  is  this 
which  makes  us  linger  when  we  say  farewell ;  it  is  this 
which  nerves  the  heart  and  strenothens  the  arm  when  the 


320  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

horrid  din  of  war  shuts  ont  the  memory  of  dear  associa- 
tions ;  and  this  wrings  the  life-blood  from  that  heart,  and 
causes  the  arm  to  fall  powerless.  It  is  this  which  bears  up 
against  discouragements  those  who  would  mount  to  Fame's 
highest  pinnacle,  there  to  inscribe  a  name  which  shall  live 
loiig  after  they  themselves  have  passed  away.  A  name  !  — 
what  a  slight  token  of  i-emembrance  for  the  giant  minds  of 
earth  to  bequeath  !  A  name  !  when  the  form,  the  counte- 
nance, shall  have  a  place  in  the  memory  of  none ! 

3.  We  all  love  to  cherish  the  thouo-ht  that  we  shall  not 
he  forgotten^  that  we  shall  not  be  dead  to  others,  when  the 
warm  pulsations  of  our  hearts  have  ceased ;  that  "  dumb 
forgetfulness  "  yf'iW  not  bind  our  memories  in  the  chains  of 
silence.  We  can  all  designate  some  in  our  immediate 
presence,  in  whose  surviving  thoughts  our  love,  ourselves, 
would  gladly  dwell.     Assured  of  this,  and  who  would  not 

•*  Leave  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day, 
Nor  cast  one  longing,  lingering  look  behind  "  ? 

But  it  may  not  be.  When  our  eyes  are  stamped  with 
the  seal  of  death,  some  few  faithful  ones  will  mourn  our 
loss,  some  bitter  tears  be  shed  over  our  graves,  and,  in  a 
little  while,  we  shall  be  forgotten. 

4.  There  are  those,  however,  and  not  a  few,  who  have 
won  an  earthly  immortality  hy  their  thoughts  and  deeds.  To 
tliese^  though  their  forms  have  faded  from  the  eye  of  Time, 
and  their  monuments  been  fanned  to  dust  by  his  wing, —  to 
these  it  has  never  been  said,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  and 
no  farther."  They  live,  love,  and  are  loved,  as  when  the 
earth  was  gladdened  by  their  actual  presence.  We  have 
felt  their  spirits  breathing  into  and  mingling  with  ours, 
when  the  world  looked  dark,  and  all  has  become  bright 
again. 


TTNION  FIFTH  READEE.  321 

5.  With  a  prophetic  tone  their  voices  have  rung  in  our 
ears,  rousing  us  from  dull  torpor  and  senseless  slumber  to 
high  thought  and  holy  purpose.  No  :  they  are  not  dead; 
they  are  not  forgotten  !  Aspirer  after  fame,  wouldst  thou 
leave  some  traces  on  the  shores  of  Time,  over  which  the 
waves  of  oblivion  shall  dash  with  all  their  fury  in  vain^  ? 
Wouldst  thou  be  lulled  to  thy  last  sleep  with  the  sweet 
consciousness  that  thou  Avilt  not  be  forgotten'  ?  If  so,  *'  go 
thou  and  do  likewise." 

6.  A  little  star  shining  so  soothingly,  whispering  peace 
to  the  rebellious  heart,  and  hope  to  the  desolate,  were  the 
decree  of  the  Almighty  to  go  forth  that  its  light  must  be 
extinguished,  would  long  afterwards  be  seen  by  us,  twink- 
ling and  cheering  as  ever.  So  with  the  great  and  good  of 
earth.  The  light  which  hovers  around  their  pathway,  can 
not  grow  dim,  though  we  consign  their  bodies  to  the  tomb, 
vmtil  Time's  course  is  fully  run ;  and  even  then  it  will 
shine  as  brightly  as  ever,  in  a  holier,  a  purer  land  than 
this.  In  that  land,  also,  it  is  our  hope  that  the  severed 
ties  of  nature  and  of  friendship  will  be  reunited.  There 
we  shall  see  those  whom  we  have  loved,  and  there  forgot-^ 
ten  is  a  forbidden  word. 


LESSON    XCIX. 

^  Mil'  ton.     See  note,  page  107. 

-  Klop'  stock,  Friedricb,  a  celebrated  German  poet,  was  born  in  Prussian 
Saxony,  1724,  and  died  1803.  He  devoted  himself  entirely  to  litera- 
ture. His  greatest  work  was  the  sacred  epic  called  "  The  Messiah," 
He  made  himself  respectably  known  also  by  philological  writings. 

^  Old  Mortality,  a  character  and  the  title  of  a  novel  by  Sir  Walter  Scott. 
The  name  is  said  to  have  been  a  sobriquet  popularly  conferred  upon 
Robert  Patterson,  a  religious  itinerant  of  the  later  half  of  the  last  cen- 
21 


822  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

tury,  the  traditions  concerning  whom  are  related  in  the  story,  and  who 
is  described  as  a  solitary,  frequenting  country  church-yards,  and  the 
graves  of  the  Covenanters,  in  the  south  of  Scotland,  and  whose  occu- 
pation consisted  in  clearing  the  moss  from  tlie  gray  tombstones,  re- 
newing with  his  chisel  the  half-defaced  inscriptions,  and  repairing  the 
emblems  of  death  Avith  which  the  monuments  were  adorned. 

*  Pla'  to,  an  illustrious  Grecian  philosopher,  who  taught  the  immortality 
of  the  soul  and  the  beauty  of  goodness,  was  born  at  Athens  429  years 
before  Christ,  and  died  in  his  80th  year.  He  was  the  disciple  of  Soc- 
rates.    His  system  of  philosophy  is  known  as  the  Platonic. 

'  Ad'  di  SOX,  Joseph,  one  of  the  most  elegant  writers  in  English  literature, 
was  born  in  1672,  and  died  in  1719. 

THE    DESIRE    OF    REPUTATION. 

REV.  ALBERT  BARNES. 

THE  desire  of  an  honored  name  exists  in  all.  It  is  an 
original  principle  in  every  mind,  and  lives  often  when 
every  other  generous  principle  has  been  obliterated.  It  is 
the  wish  to  be  Jcnoivn  and  respected  hy  others, : —  to  extend 
the  hiowledge  of  our  existence  beyond  our  individual  con- 
sciousness of  being,  —  to  be  remembered^  at  least,  for  a  lit- 
tle while  after  we  are  dead.  J^ext  to  the  dread  of  annihi- 
lation, we  dread  the  immediate  extinction  of  our  names 
when  we  die.  We  would  not  have  the  earth  at  once  made 
level  over  our  graves ;  we  would  not  have  the  spot  where 
we  sleep  at  once  forgotten  ;  we  Avould  not  have  the  last 
traces  of  our  existence  at  once  obliterated  from  the  memo- 
ry of  the  living  world. 

2.  We  need  not  go  into  an  argument  to  prove  that  this 
desire  exists  in  the  human  soul.  Any  one  has  only  to  look 
into  his  own  heart  to  find  it  always  there  in  living  power, 
and  in  controlling  influence.  We  need  not  ask  you  to  cast 
your  eyes  upon  the  pages  of  history  to  see  the  proofs,  that 
the  desire  has  found  a  home  in  the  heart  of  man.  We 
need  not  point  you  to  the  distinguished  heroes,  orators,  and 
poets  of  the  past   or  modern  times  j  nor  need  we  attempt 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  .  323 

to  trace  its  operations  in  animating  to  deeds  of  noble  dar- 
ing, or  its  influence  on  the  beautiful  productions  of  art. 

3.  Milton^  was  warmed  by  the  same  generous  emotion, 
and  the  same  conviction  that  he  would  be  remembered, 
and  felt  that  there  dwelt  within  him  the  innate  power  of 
rearing  a  monument  which  would  convey  his  name  to  latest 
times,  when  lie  uttered  this  sentiment: — "  I  began  to  as- 
sent to  my  friends  here  at  home,  and  not  less  to  an  inward 
prompting  which  now  grew  daily  upon  me,  that  by  labor 
and  intense  study,  (which  I  take  to  be  my  portion  in  this 
life,)  joined  with  the  strongest  propensity  of  nature,  I 
might,  perhaps,  leave  something  so  written  to  after  times, 
as  they  should  not  willingly  let  it  die."  Klopstock,^  in 
one  of  his  best  odes,  has  described  the  instinctive  desire  of 
future  reputation^  and  of  living  in  the  memory  of  posteri- 
ty, when  founded  on  a  virtuous  principle. 

4.  "  Sweet  are  the  thrills  the  silver  voice  of  Fame 

Triumphant  through  the  bounding  bosom  darts  1 
And  immortality  !  how  proud  an  aim ! 

What  noble  toil  to  spur  the  noblest  hearts  I 
My  charm  of  song  to  live  through  future  time. 

To  hear,  still  spurning  death's  invidious  stroke. 
Enraptured  choirs  rehearse  one's  name  sublime, 

E'en  from  the  mansions  of  the  grave  invoke : 
Within  the  tender  heart  e'en  then  to  rear 

Thee,  Love  !  thee.  Virtue  !  fairest  growth  of  Heaven ! 
Oh,  this,  indeed,  is  worthy  men's  career  ; 

This  is  the  toil  to  noblest  spirits  given  !  " 

5.  The  desire  of  a  grateful  remembrance  when  w^e  are 
dead,  lives  in  every  human  bosom.  The  earth  is  full  of 
the  memorials  which  have  been  erected  as  the  effect  of  that 
desire  ;  and  though  thousands  of  the  monuments  that  had 


324  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

been  reared  by  anxious  care  and  toil,  by  deeds  of  valor  on 
the  battle-field,  or  by  early  efforts  at  distinction  in  the  fo- 
rum, have  perished,  still  we  can  not  traverse  a  land  where 
the  indications  of  this  deep-rooted  desire  do  not  meet  us 
on  every  side.  The  once  lofty  column,  now  broken  and 
decaying ;  the  marble,  from  which  the  name  has  been  ob- 
literated by  time  ;  the  splendid  mausoleum,  standing  over 
remains  long  since  forgotten  ;  and"  the  lofty  pyramid  — 
though  the  name  of  its  builder  is  no  lono;er  known  —  each 
one  shows  how  deeply  this  desire  once  fixed  itself  in  some 
human  heart. 

6.  Every  work  of  art,  every  temple  and  statue,  every 
book  on  which  we  carelessly  cast  the  eye  as  we  pass  along 
the  alcoves  of  a  great  library,  is  probably  a  monument  of 
this  desire  to  he  remembered  when  life  is  gone.  Every  rose 
or  honeysuckle  that  we  plant  over  the  grave  of  a  friend, 
is  but  a  response  to  the  desire  not  to  be  forgotten,  which 
once  warmed  the  cold  heart  beneath.  And  who  would  be 
willing  to  be  forgotten  ?  Who  could  endure  the  thought, 
that,  when  he  is  committed  to  the  earth,  no  tear  would  ever 
fall  on  his  2:rave  ;  no  thouo;ht  of  a  friend  ever  be  directed 
to  his'  tomb  ;  and  that  the  traveler  would  n^iver  be  told 
who  is  the  sleeper  there  ? 

7.  To  this  universal  desire  in  the  bosom  of  man  to  be 
remembered  when  he  is  dead,  the  living  world  is  not  reluc- 
tant to  respond  ;  for  everywhere  it  manifests  such  tokens 
of  respect  as  it  deems  best  suited  to  perpetuate  the  mem- 
ory of  the  departed.  Affection,  therefore,  goes  forth  and 
plants  the  rose  on  the  grave ;  rears  the  marble,  molded 
into  breathing  forms,  over  the  dust ;  like  Old  Mortality,^ 
cuts  the  letters  deeper  when  the  storms  of  time  efface 
them ;  and  hands  down  in  verse  and  song  the  names  of 
those  who  have  deserved  well  of  mankind. 


UNIOK  FIFTH  READER.  325 

8.  "  Patriots  have  toiled,  and  in  their  country's  cause 
Bled  nobly;  and  their  deeds,  as  they  deserve, 
Receive  proud  recompense.     We  give  in  charge 
Their  names  to  the  sweet  lyre.     The  Historic  Muse, 
Proud  of  the  treasure,  marches  with  it  down 

To  latest  times  ;  and  Sculpture,  in  her  turn. 
Gives  bond  in  stone  and  ever-during  brass. 
To  guard  them,  and  to  immortalize  her  trust. 
But  fairer  wreaths  are  due,  though  never  paid, 
To  those  who,  posted  at  the  shrine  of  Truth, 
Have  fallen  in  her  defense." 

9.  Why  is  this  passion  implanted  in  the  human  bosom  ? 
Why  is  it  so  universal  ?  Why  is  it  seen  in  so  many  forms  *<* 
We  answer,  —  It  is  one  of  the  proofs  of  mail's  immortali- 
ty^—  the  strong,  instinctive,  universal  desire  to  live,  and 
live  forever.  It  is  tliat  to  which  philosophers  have  ap- 
pealed, in  the  lack  of  better  evidence,  to  sustain  the  hope 
that  man  would  survive  the  tomb.  It  is  the  argument  on 
which  Plato'*  rested  to  sustain  his  soul  in  the  darkness 
which  enveloped  him,  and  which  has  been  put  into  the 
mouth  of  every  school-boy,  in  the  language  of  Addison'^ :  — 

10.  "  Whence  this  pleasing  hope,  this  fond  desire, 
This  longing  after  immortality  ? 

Or  whence  this  secret  dread  and  inward  horror 
Of  fidling  into  naught  ?     Why  shrinks  the  Soul 
Back  on  herself,  and  startles  at  destruction  ? 
'Tis  the  divinity  that  stirs  within  us ; 
'Tis  Heaven  itself  that  points  out  an  hereafter. 
And  intimates  eternity  to  man." 

11.  And  wliile  this  desire  lingers  in  the  human  soul, 
as  it  always  will,  man  can  not  forget  that  he  is  immortal ; 
and  it  will  be  vain  to  attempt  to  satisfy  him  that  he  wholly 


326  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

ceases  to  be  when  the  body  dies.  He  will  not,  he  can  not, 
believe  it.  He  would  not  always  sleep.  He  would  not 
always  be  forgotten.  He  would  live  again,  —  live  on  in 
the  memory  of  his  fellow-man,  as  long  as  the  flowers  can 
be  made  to  bloom,  or  the  marble  to  perpetuate  his  name  ; 
and  then  still  live  on  when  "  seas  shall  waste,  and  skies  in 
smoke  decay." 


■♦- 


LESSON   C. 

VANITY  OF  EARTHLY  FAME. 

HENRY   KIRKE  WHITE. 

1.  Oh,  how  weak 
Is  mortal  man  !  how  trifling !  how  confined 
His  scope  of  vision  !     Pufled  with  confidence, 
His  phrase  grows  big  with  immortality, 

And  he,  poor  insect  of  a  summer's  day. 
Dreams  of  eternal  honors  to  his  name,  — 
Of  endless  glory  and  perennial  bays! 
He  idly  reasons  of  eternity. 
As  of  the  train  of  ages ;  when,  alas  ! 
Ten  thousand  thousand  of  Ms  centuries 
Are,  in  comparison,  a  httle  point 
Too  trivial  for  account ! 

2.  Oh,  it  is  strange, 
'Tis  passing  strange,  to  mark  his  fallacies ! 
Behold  him  proudly  view  some  pompous  pile. 
Whose  high  dome  swells  to  emulate  the  skies. 
And  smile,  and  say,  "  My  name  shall  live  with  this 
Till  Time  shall  be  no  more  ;  "  while  at  his  feet, 
Yea,  at  his  very  feet,  the  crumbling  dust 

Of  the  fallen  fabric  of  the  other  day 
Preaches  the  solemn  lesson  ! 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  327 

He  should  know 
That  Time  must  conquer  ;  that  the  loudest  blast 
That  ever  filled  Renown's  obstreperous  trump 
Fades  in  the  lapse  of  ages,  and  expires. 
Who  lies  inhumed  in  the  terrific  gloom 
Of  the  gigantic  pyramid  ?  or  who 
Reared  its  huge  walls  ?     Oblivion  laughs,  and  says, 
"  The  prey  is  mine  !     They  sleep,  and  never  more 
Their  names  shall  strike  upon  the  ear  of  man !  " 


WILLIAM   MOTHERWELL. 

What  is  glory  ?     What  is  fame  ? 
The  echo  of  a  long-lost  name ; 
A  breath  ;  an  idle  hour's  brief  talk ; 
The  shadow  of  an  arrant  naught ; 
A  flower  that  blossoms  for  a  day, 

Dying  next  morrow ; 
A  stream  that  hurries  on  its  way, 

Sino-ing  of  sorrow ; 
The  last  drop  of  a  bootless  shower, 
Shed  on  a  sear  and  leafless  bower ; 
A  rose  stuck  in  a  dead  man's  breast,  — 
This  is  the  Avorld's  fame  at  the  best ! 

What  is  fame  ?  and  what  is  glory  ? 
A  dream  ;  a  jester's  lying  story, 
To  tickle  fools  withal,  or  be 
A  theme  for  second  infancy ; 
A  joke  scrawled  on  an  epitaph  ; 
A  grin  at  Death's  own  ghastly  laugh ; 
A  visioning  that  tempts  the  eye, 
But  mocks  the  touch  —  nonentity  ; 


328  SANDERS'  UKION   SERIES. 

A  rainbow,  substanceless  as  bright, 
Flittinor  forever 

o 

O'er  hill-top  to  more  distant  hight, 

Nearing  us  never ; 
A  bubble  blown  by  fond  conceit, 
In  very  sooth  itself  to  cheat ; 
The  witch-fire  of  a  frenzied  brain ; 
A  fortune  that  to  lose  were  gain ; 
A  word  of  praise,  perchance  of  blame ; 
The  wreck  of  a  time-bandied  name,  — 
Ay,  this  is  glory  !  —  this  is  fame  ! 


LESSON"    CT. 

^  Co  rin'  thi  an,  pertaining  to  the  Corinthian   order  of  architecture,  — 
characterized  by  a  profusion  of  ornamentation. 

"THIS,  TOO,  MUST  PASS   AWAY." 

MRS.  E.  C.  HOWARTH. 

An  old  baron  gave  a  grand  banquet.  In  the  midst  of  the  festivities,  he 
requested  the  seer  to  write  some  inscription  on  the  wall  in  memory  of  the 
occasion.     The  seer  wrote,  —  "This,  too,  must  pass  auxty." 


ONCE  in  a  banquet-hall, 
'Mid  mir 


mirth  and  music,  wine  and  garlands  gay, 
These  words  were  written  on  the  garnished  wall,  — 

"  This,  too,  must  pass  away." 
And  eyes  that  sparkled  when  the  wine  was  poured 
'Mid  song  and  jest,  and  merry  minstrel  lay. 
Turned  sad  and  thoughtful  from  the  festive  board 
To  read,  'mid  pendent  banner,  lyre,  and  sword,  — 

''T7«8,  too^  must  pass  away.'''' 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  329 

And  where  are  they  to-night,  — 
The  gay  retainers  of  that  festive  hall  ? 
Like  blooming  rose,  like  waxen  taper's  light, 

They  have  departed  all. 
Long  since  the  banners  crumbled  into  dust, 
The  proud  Corinthian  ^  pillars  met  decay. 
The  lyre  is  broken,  and  the  sword  is  rust ; 
The  kingly  bards  who  sang  of  love  and  trust  — 

They^  too^  have  passed  away. 

Yet  Genius  seeks  the  crown, 
And  Art  builds  stately  homes  for  wealth  and  pride, 
And  Love  beside  the  household  shrine  kneels  down. 

And  Dust  is  deified  : 
Yet,  'midst  our  loves,  ambitions,  pleasures,  all. 
The  spirit  struggles  ever  with  the  clay : 
On  every  ear  a  warning  voice  will  fall, 
Each  eye  beholds  the  writing  on  the  wall,  — 

'''This,  too,  must  pass  awayJ^^ 


LESSON    OIL 
GOD,  THE  TRUE  OBJECT  OF  CONFIDENCE. 

GREENWOOD. 

¥E  receive  such  repeated  intimations  of  decay  in  the 
world, — decline,  change,  and  loss  follow  in  such  rapid 
succession, — that  we  can  almost  catch  the  sound  of  universal 
wasting,  and  hear  the  work  of  desolation  going  on  busily 
around  us.  "  The  mountain  falling  cometh  to  naught,  and 
the  rock  is  removed  out  of  his  place.  The  waters  wear 
the  'Atones.     Thou  washest  away  the  thing«^  which  grow 


330  SAKDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

out  of  the  dust  of  the  earth,  and  Thou  destroy  est  the  hope 
of  man.* 

2.  Conscious  of  our  own  instabihty,  we  look  about  for 
something  on  which  to  rest,  but  we  look  in  vain.  The 
heavens  and  the  earth  had  a  beginning,  and  they  will  have 
an  end.  The  face  of  the  world  is  changing  daily  and 
hourly.  All  animated  things  grow  old,  and  die.  The 
rocks  crumble,  —  the  trees  fall,  —  the  leaves  fade,  —  the 
grass  withers.  The  clouds  are  flying,  and  the  waters  are 
flowing  away  from  us. 

"  8.  The  firmest  works  of  man,  too,  are  gradually  giving 
way.  The  ivy  clings  to  the  moldering  tower,  —  the  brier 
hangs  out  from  the  shattered  window,  —  and  the  wall-flow- 
er springs  from  the  disjointed  stones.  In  the  spacious 
domes  which  once  held  our  fathers,  the  serpent  hisses, 
and  the  wild  bird  screams.  The  halls  which  were  once 
crowded  with  all  that  taste,  and  science,  and  labor  could 
procure,  —  Avhich  resounded  Avith  melody,  and  Avere  lighted 
up  with  beauty,  —  are  buried  by  their  own  ruins, — mocked 
by  their  own  desolation.  The  voice  of  merriment  or  of 
wailing,  —  the  steps  of  the  busy  or  the  idle,  —  have  ceased 
in  the  deserted  courts. 

4.  While  we  thus  walk  among  the  ruins  of  the  past,  a 
sad  feeling  of  insecurity  comes  over  us ;  and  that  feeling 
is  by  no  means  diminished  when  we  arrive  at  home.  If 
we  turn  to  our  friends,  we  can  hardly  speak  to  them,  before 
they  bid  us  farewell.  We  see  them  for  a  few  moments  ; 
and,  in  a  few  moments  more,  their  countenances  are 
changed,  and  they  are  sent  away.  The  ties  which  bind 
us  together,  are  never  too  close  to  be  parted,  or  too  strong 
to  be  broken.     We  gain  no  confidence,  then,  no  feeling  of 

*  Job,  14th  chap.,  18th  and  19th  verses. 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADEE.  '  331 

security,  by  turning  to  our  contemporaries  and  kindred. 
We  know  that  the  forms  that  are  breathing  around  us,  are 
as  short-hved  and  fleeting  as  those  were  which  have  been 
dust  for  centuries. 

5.  If  every  thing  which  comes  under  our  notice  has  en- 
dured for  so  short  a  time,  and  in  so  short  a  time  will  be  no 
more,  we  can  not  say  that  we  receive  the  least  assurance 
by  thinking  on  ourselves.  When  a  few  more  friends  have 
left,  a  few  more  hopes  deceived,  and  a  few  more  changes 
mocked  us,  "  we  shall  be  brought  to  the  grave,  and  shall 
remain  In  the  tomb.  The  clods  of  the  valley  shall  be 
sweet  unto  us." 

6.  When  we  ourselves  have  gone,  even  the  remembrance 
of  us  will  not  long  remain.  A  few  of  the  near  and  dear 
will  bear  our  likenesses  in  their  bosoms,  till  they,  too,  have 
arrived  at  the  end  of  their  journey,  and  entered  the  dark 
dwellino;  of  unconsciousness.  In  the  thouo;hts  of  others,  we 
shall  live  only  till  the  last  sound  of  the  bell,  which  informs 
them  of  our  departure,  has  ceased  to  vibrate  In  tlieir  ears. 

7.  A  stone,  perhaps,  may  tell  some  wanderer  where  we 
lie,  —  when  we  came  here,  —  when  we  went  away  ;  but 
even  that  will  soon  refuse  to  bear  us  record.  Time's 
*'  effacing  fingers  "  will  be  busy  on  its  surface,  and  will,  at 
length,  wear  it  smooth.  The  stone  itself  will  sink,  or  crum- 
ble ;  and  the  wanderer  of  another  age  will  pass,  without  a 
single  call  upon  his  sympathy,  over  our  unheeded  graves. 

8.  Is  there  nothing  to  counteract  the  sinking  of  the 
heart,  which  must  be  the  effect  of  observations  like  these'? 
Is  there  no  substance  among  all  these  shadows'?  Can 
no  support  be  offered,  —  can  no  source  of  confidence  be 
named'  ?  Yes^ !  There  Is  a  Being,  to  whom  we  can  look 
with  a  perfect  conviction  of  finding  that  security  which 
nothing  about  us  can  give, — nothing  can  take  away.     To 


332  '  SANDEES'   UNION  SEKIES. 

this  Being  we  can  lift  up  our  souls,  and  on  Him  we  may 
rest  them,  exclaiming  in  the  language  of  the  monarch  of 
Israel,  — 

"  Before  the  mountains  were  brought  forth, 
Or  ever  Tliou  hadst  formed  the  earth  and  the  world, 
Even  from  everlasting  to  everlasting,  Thou  art  God." 

9.  "  Of  old  hast  Thou  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth  ; 
And  the  heavens  are  the  work  of  Thj  hands. 
They  shall  perish,  but  Thou  shalt  endure  ; 
Yea,  all  of  them  shall  wax  old  like  a  garment ; 
As  a  vesture  shalt  Thou  change  them,  and  thej  shall 

be  changed  ; 
But  Thou  art  the  same,  and  Thj  years  shall  have  no 
end."  * 
Here^  then,  is  a  support  which  will  never  fail.     Here  is 
a  foundation  which  can  never  be  moved,  —  the  everlastinor 
Creator  of  countless  worlds, — 

"  The  high  and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eternity." 

10.  When  we  have  looked  on  the  pleasures  of  life,  and 
they  have  vanished  away ;  when  we  have  looked  on  the 
works  of  Nature,  and  perceived  that  they  were  changing ; 
on  the  monuments  of  Art,  and  seen  that  they  would  not 
stand ;  on  our  friends,  and  they  have  fled  while  we  were 
gazing ;  on  ourselves,  and  felt  that  we  were  as  fleeting  as 
they,  —  we  can  look  to  the  throne  of  God.  Change  and 
decay  have  never  reached  that.  The  waves  of  an  eternity 
have  been  rushing  past  it,  but  it  has  remained  unshaken. 
The  waves  of  another  eternity  are  rushing  toward  it,  but 
it  is  fixed,  and  can  never  be  disturbed. 

11.  We  shall  shortly  finish  our  allotted  time  on  earth, 
and  a  world  of  other  days  and  other  men  will  be  entirely 

it  90th  Ps.,  2d  verse ;  and  102d  Ps.,  25th,  26th,  and  27th  verses. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  833 

ignorant  that  once  we  lived.  But  the  same  unalterable 
Being  will  still  preside  over  the  universe,  through  all  its 
changes,  and  from  His  remembrance  we  shall  never  be 
blotted.  He  is  our  Father  and  our  God  forever.  He 
takes  us  from  earth  that  He  may  lead  us  to  Heaven,  — 
that  He  may  refine  our  nature  from  all  its  principles  of 
corruption,  —  share  with  us  His  own  immortality,  admit  us 
to  His  everlasting  habitation,  and  crown  us  with  His  eter- 
nity. 

LESSON   CIII. 

*  Col  OS  se'  um,  the  amphitheater  of  Vespasian  in  Rome,  the  largest  in  the 

world. 

^  O  lym'pus,  or  Olympia,  a  town  in  Greece,  celebrated  for  the  Olympic 
games  that  took  place  there  once  in  four  years,  and  continuing  five  days. 

^  Sin' YL,  (in  Pagan  antiquity,)  a  woman  supposed  to  be  endowed  with  a 
spirit  of  propliecy,  and  who  wrote  books  of  prophecies,  in  verse,  sup- 
posed to  contain  the  fate  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

*  Mil'  ton.     See  note,  page  107. 

^  Shak'  speare.     See  note,  page  106. 

INSPIRATION  OF  LIVING   GENIUS. 

MRS.  E.  OAKES  SMITH. 

"  AF  making  many  books,  there  is  no  end,"  *  exclaims 
\J  the  wise  man,  foreseeing  the  accumulation  of  words 
in  the  coming  ages,  at  the  expense  of  ideas.  That  indi- 
viduals think  less,  and  achieve  less,  now  that  books  are 
multiplied  to  such  an  extraordinary  degree,  must  be  mani- 
fest to  the  dullest  observer.  Men  expend  their  lives  in 
reading  what  has  been  said  by  others,  and  thus  neglect 
their  own  resources.  They  pore  over  obsolete  ideas ; 
they  garner  the  treasury  of  familiar  expression ;  and  in 
tlie  meanwhile  opportunity  escapes,  time  rolls  onward,  and 
they  themselves  add  nothing  to  the  munificence  of  thought. 

*  Eccl.,  12th  chap.,  12th  verse. 


334  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

2.  Were  it  otlierwise,  were  books  less  abundant,  did 
libraries  teem  less  with  the  culture  of  the  ages,  men  would 
be  compelled  to  delve  into  the  mine  of  their  own  genius^  and 
each  age  would  present  us  with  its  poets,  its  heroes,  and 
philosophers.  We  should  have,  not  book-worms,  but  the 
inspirations  of  Uving  genius^ — not  imitators  and  plagiarists, 
such  as  abound  in  our  time,  but  revelations,  and  utterances 
to  electrify  the  nations.  We  have  a  host  of  scholars,  and 
onlj  now  and  then  a  man  of  original  experience.  We 
reproduce  the  old  in  diluted  forms  ;  whereas,  were  we 
deprived  of  these  models,  we  might  do  something  in  our 
own  rio-ht. 

3.  Our  literature  is  full  of  artists,  but  poor  in  genius. 
It  is  easy  to  reconstruct  —  difficult  to  originate.  For  ages 
the  Colosseum  ^  has  been  the  great  quarry  whence  mod- 
ern Rome  has  been  built,  and  yet  it  stands  magnificent 
and  inspiring  in  its  devastation  and  decay.  The  age  that 
conceived  the  Colosseum,  will  no  more  appear.  We  re- 
produce the  ancients,  —  bvit  only  in  poorer  forms,  and 
upon  a  more  limited  scale. 

4.  Once  nations  poured  themselves  upon  the  arena  of 
Greece  to  compete  at  the  games  of  Olympus.^  The  crash 
of  chariot-wheels  thundered  along  the  way,  where  the 
racer  bent  his  forces  intent  iipon  the  goal,  and  horsemen 
vaulted  from  back  to  back,  as  his  flying  steeds,  four  abreast, 
filled  the  air  with  animation.  In  our  day  we  revive  the 
Olympic  reminiscence  in  the  lecture-room  of  the  Lyceum, 
and  the  bombast  of  the  stump-orator.  The  gladiator  is  the 
modern  pugilist,  and  for  the  charioteer  and  daring  horse- 
man is  the  tent-covered  arena  of  the  modern  circus. 

5.  We  are  loss  heroic  altogether.  We  make  life  a  fact, 
not  an  inspiration.  What  will  come  of  it  ?  Where  will 
it  end  ?     Is  there  no  great  idea  to  be  revealed,  which  shall 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  335 

refresh  and  enlarge  our  humanity''  ?  Assuredly  there  is. 
Let  us  wait  and  listen.  Poets  and  artists  have  too  many 
aids ;  and  therefore  they  copy  each  other,  instead  of  going* 
forth  to  look  into  the  heart  of  Nature.  The  wise  man  or 
woman  will  write  out  inspirations,  and  cast  them  like  the 
leaves  of  the  Sibyl. ^  If  the  world  needs  them,  they  will 
be  gathered ;  if  not,  they  should  feel  no  pang,  as  they 
eddy,  like  dry  leaves,  at  the  will  of  the  inconstant  blast. 

6.  There  is  no  absolute  necessity  that  any  one  should 
win  fame :  there  is  no  fame  worth  the  winning  except 
that  illustrative  of  the  religious  faith  of  the  people  ;  no 
ideas  are  perpetual  but  those  of  the  religious.  Take  out 
of  the  world  Milton,^  Shakspeare,^  and  the  Bible,  and 
chaos  would  come  again ;  leave  us  the  Bible,  Milton,  and 
Shakspeare,  and  we  have  little  need  of  libraries. 

7.  Science  will  take  care  of  itself;  facts  are  perpetual. 
Those  that  are  needful  to  us,  will  be  kept  ahve  ;  and  others, 
which  are  incomplete  links  to  the  perfect  chain,  may  as 
well  die.  There  is  no  doubt  a  lazy  pleasure  in  sitting  in 
one's  library,  and  reading  the  thoughts  which  inspired 
the  hearts  of  heroes  and  sages  in  the  past  ages ;  but  the 
thought  that  may  be  made  vital  and  effective  in  the  pres- 
ent, is  better, to  the  true,  earnest  man  or  woman. 

8.  Let  the  good  thing  but  be  said,  and  it  matters  not  by 
whom  it  is  uttered.  If  the  author  be  truly  large  and 
original,  the  world  will  not  forget  him.  Nature  is  chary 
of  her  gems :  she  hides  the  diamond  in  the  deepest  caves ; 
but  once  brought  forth  to  the  light,  its  rays  are  choicely 
garnered,  and  its  record  kept  as  persistently  as  the  crown 
of  a  king's  head.  The  harp  and  the  lute  may  fade  away 
adown  sweet-scented  valleys  and  vine-clad  hills ;  but  the 
trumpet  awakens  the  wilderness  to  action,  and  lends  a 
voice  to  the  everlastins;  hills. 


336  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 


LESSON    CIY. 

*  John'  son,  Samuel,  the  celebrated  English  lexicographer,  was  bom  at 
Licthfield,  England,  1 709  ;  and  died  1 784.  He  was  educated  at  Oxford, 
and  became  one  of  the  most  prominent  characters  in  English  literary 
history.  A  large  portion  of  his  writings  appeared  in  the  "  Gentleman's 
Magazine,"  "  The  Rambler,"  and  "  The  Idler."  His  Life  by  Boswell 
contains  a  curious  collection  of  sayings,  that  are  held  to  convey  a  more 
favorable  impression  of  his  real  strength,  both  in  thought  and  language, 
than  any  thing  in  the  works  which  he  wrote  or  published. 

GENIUS   AND   ORIGINALITY. 

REV.  DR.  G.  W.   EATON. 

MY  philosophy  teaches  me  that  what  is  called  genius,  is 
an  extraordinary  development  of  a  single  faculty ,  or 
set  of  faculties ;  and  is  in  many,  perhaps  in  most  cases,  an 
evidence  of  disease  or  distortion  in  mental  constitution  ; 
and,  therefore,  something  neither  to  be  envied  nor  desired. 
Genius  !  —  who  wants  more  genius  than  he  possesses  in  a 
mind  of  immortal  and  ever-growing  capacities  ?  Let  him 
stir  up  his  powers,  and  set  them  energetically  to  work.  It 
is  tJiis  that  marks  a  man  as  original  and  peculiar  among  his 
fellow-men. 

2.  It  is  not  that  he  possesses  faculties  which  others  have 
not,  and  tendencies  which  do  not  belong  to  common  hu- 
manity ;  but  he  has  waked  up  Ms  immortal  energies,  and 
they  live,  and  intensely  act  within  him ;  and  his  whole 
intellectual  and  moral  nature  stands  out  in  bold  and  glow- 
ing relief.  He  may  be  called  original  and  eccentric,  and 
"  a  genius,"  and  be  looked  upon  as  something  out  of  thvi 
ordinary  course  of  nature  ;  but  all  his  originality  and  eccen- 
tricity may  be  owing  to  the  fact  that  he  does  his  own 
thinkincr. 


3.  He  forms  his  own  opinions,  and  therefore  they  must 
be  cast,  whatever  the  material  may  be,  in  the  pecuhar 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  337 

mold  of  liis  own  mind,  and  partake  of  all  the  peculiarities 
of  that  moldc  If  there  was  more  deep  and  original  think- 
ing, there  would  be  a  greater  number  of  real  geniuses,  of 
original  and  eccentric  characters ;  or  rather  eccentricity 
would  be  seen  to  be  a  natural  movement.  It  is  this  process 
wliicli  makes  "  originals."  We  all  might  be  original  and 
peculiar,  if  we  would  take  the  pains  to  improve  to  the 
utmost  the  powers  oiu'  Creator  has  given  us. 

4.  Trust  not,  then,  to  an  imaginary  phantom  to  breathe 
inspiration  into  your  sluggish  spirits,  nor  wait  for  the  auspi- 
cious moment,  when  some  pitying  Muse,  invoked  from  a 
distant  sphere,  shall  descend  and  infuse  life  into  your  torpid 
faculties,  and  kindle  up  the  "  glow  of  composition."  If 
you  have  an  exercise  in  composition  to  prepare,  act  upon 
the  advice  of  the  sage  Dr.  Johnson,^  — ''  Sit  down  doggedly 
to  tlie  work."  I  know  of  no  certain  way  to  bring  on  the 
"glow  of  composition,"  (which  is  indeed  a  most  desirable 
state,)  but  by  the  intense  friction  of  great  truths  with  our 
faculties. 

5.  This  will  soon  kindle  up  an  internal  fire  that  will 
send  a  warmth  and  glow  through  the  entire  system.  It  is 
this  friction  which  causes  the  strange  transitions  in  the 
mind,  of  which  we  have  spoken.  When  we  first  address 
ourselves  to  the  examination  of  a  difficult  subject,  all  may 
be  dark  as  midnight,  and  we  have  no  power  to  do  any 
thing  with  it.  But  by  holding  it  steadily  before  the  mind, 
pressing  the  faculties  up  to  it,- and  keeping  up  the  friction, 
by  and  by  a  sort  of  electric  power  is  generated,  which 
emits  blazing  illuminations,  dispelling  the  darkness,  and 
elances  a  lightning  energy,  splitting  into  ribbdns  the  gnarled 
and  refractory  subject. 

6.  Now  the  toil  is  over.  Henceforth  all  is  enthusiastic 
play.    The  mind  moves  with  freedom  and  majesty.    "  The 

15 


338  SANDEKS'  UNION  SERIES. 

hidings  of  its  power"  are  disclosed.  Bright  and  glorious 
thoughts  come  thronging  round,  attended  by  words,  their 
obedient  ''  servitors,"  all  ready  to  robe  them  in  appropriate 
attire.  But  how  few  ever  attain  to  this  state  of  mental 
elevation  and  power !  And  why  ?  They  give  over  too 
soon.  The  process  is  discontinued  before  the  result  is 
reached. 


LESSON    CY. 

HURRYING   ON. 

1.  "  Hurrying  on,  hurrying  on  ! " 

Says  a  Voice  that  speaks  from  the  works  of  God ; 

And  the  rolHng  Spheres,  as  they  flame  along 
O'er  the  glorious  path  of  the  great  untrod, 

Take  up  the  sound,  and  the  strain  prolong ; 

Nor  cease  they  from  chanting  the  nightly  song,- 
"  We  are  harrying  on,  hurrying  on.''^ 

2.  "  Hurrying  on,  hurrying  on  I  " 
Says  the  voice  of  Time ;  and  his  stealthy  feet 

Are  crossing  the  threshold,  unhid,  unseen, 
And  urging  us  on  at  each  pulse's  beat, 

From  the  past  to  the  future :  the  pause  between 
Is  the  fleetinor  now  —  the  feverish  dream 
Of  the  life  that  is  hurrying  on. 

3.  "  Hurrying  on,  hurrying  on  !  " 
The  busy  throng  of  the  city  and  town, 

The  peaceful  tiller  of  rural  glade. 
The  warrior  thirsting  for  bloody  renown. 

The  prince  and  the  beggar,  however  arrayed, 
Together  approaching  the  solemn  shade, 
Are  hurrying  on^  hurrying  on. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  339 

"  Hurrying  on,  hurrying  on  !  " 
Tlie  myriads  that  walk  on  this  busy  stage, 

With  youth's  gay  trip,  with  man's  firm  tread, 
And  the  trembhng  step  of  hoary  age, 
In  untroubled  sleep  to  lay  their  head 
With  the  ghostly  tribes,  the  slumbering  dead, 
Are  hurrying  on,  hurrying  on. 


LESSON    CYI. 
THE  PEOPLE'S  ADVENT. 

GERALD  MASSEY. 

This  piece  should  be  read  in  a  bold,  spirited  manner ;  and  an  excellcnr 
effect  will  be  produced  by  having  the  last  line  of  each  stanza  read  by  ui^ 
whole  class  in  concert,  as  indicated. 

1.  'rpiS  coming  up  the  steep  of  Time, 

_L   And  this  old  w^orld  is  growing  brighter : 
We  may  not  see  its  dawn  sublime, 

Yet  high  hopes  make  the  heart  throb  lighter. 
We  may  be  sleeping  'neath  the  ground 

When  it  awakes  the  world  in  wonder, 
But  we  have  felt  it  gathering  round. 

And  heard  its  voice  of  living  thunder,  — 
(^Wliole  classy  'Tis  coming !  yes^  'tis  coming! 

2.  'Tis  coming  now,  the  glorious  time 

Foretold  by  seers,  and  sung  in  story, 
For  which,  when  thinking  was  a  crime. 

Souls  leaped  to  Heaven  from  scaffolds  gory ! 
They  passed,  nor  saw  the  work  they  wrought. 

Nor  the  crowned  hopes  of  centuries  blossom  ; 
But  the  live  lightning  of  their  thought, 


340  SANDEES'  UNION    SERIES. 

And  daring  deeds,  doth  pulse  earth's  bosom,  - 
(  Whole  class)  '  Tis  coming  !  yes,  His  coming  ! 

3.  Creeds,  Systems,  Empires,  rot  with  age; 

But  the  great  People's  ever  youthful ; 
And  it  shall  write  the  Future's  page 

To  our  humanity  more  truthful. 
The  gnarlish  heart  hath  tender  chords 

To  waken  at  the  name  of  "  Brother :  " 
The  time  will  come,  when  scorpion  words 

We  shall  not  speak  to  sting  each  other, — 
(  Whole  class)  '  Tis  coming  !  yes,  His  coming  ! 

4.  Out  of  the  hVht,  old  Past !  nor  flino; 

Your  dark,  cold  shadows  on  us  longer ! 
Aside  !  thou  effete  thino;  called  Kinoj : 

The  People's  step  is  quicker,  stronger. 
There's  a  divinity  within 

That  makes  men  great  whene'er  they  will  it : 
God  works  with  all  who  dare  to  win, 

And  the  time  cometh  to  reveal  it,  — 
(  Whole  class)  '  Tis  coming  !  yes,  His  coming  ! 

5.  Ay,  it  must  come  !     The  tyrant's  throne 

Is  crumbling,  with  our  hot  tears  rusted  ; 
The  sword  earth's  mighty  have  leaned  on 

Is  cankered,  with  our  hearts'  blood  crusted. 
Room  !  for  the  Men  of  Mind  make  way  I 

Ye  robber-rulers,  pause  no  longer ; 
Ye  can  not  stop  the  opening  day ; 

The  world  rolls  on,  the  light  grows  stronger, - 
(JWhole  class)  The  People's  Advenfjs  coming/ 


UNION  FIFTH  llEADEE.  341 


LESSON     CVII. 

*  Man  hat'  tans,  native  Indians  who  inhabited  the  Island  of  Manhattan, 
on  which  the  city  of  New  York  is  now  situated. 

DISCOVERY   OF    MANHATTAN. 

MARY  L.  BOOTH. 

N  the  second  day  of  September,  1609,  Henry  Hudson, 


0 


on  board  a  small  yacht  called  "  The  Half  Moon,"  manned 
by  a  crew  of  twenty  men,  came  in  sight  of  the  Highlands 
of  Neversink,  which  he  describes  as  "  a  pleasant  land  to 
see."  Here  he  remained  all  night,  and,  setting  sail  the 
next  morning,  came  to  what  he  represents  as  "  three  great 
rivers," — the  northernmost  of  which  he  attempted  to  en- 
ter, but  was  prevented  by  the  shoal  bar  before  it.  This 
was  probably  Rockaway  Inlet ;  the  others,  the  llaritan, 
and  the  Narrows.  Foiled  in  this  attempt,  he  rounded 
Sandy  Hook,  sending  a  boat  before  him  to  sound  the  way, 
and  anchored  his  vessel  in  the  lower  bay.  They  landed 
at  Cony  Island,  and  were  the  first  white  men  that  ever  set 
foot  on  the  soil  of  the  Empire  State, 

2.  Enraptured  with  the  beautiful  scenery  before  him,  he 
determined  to  explore  this  strange,  new  country,  which 
was  worth  more  than  all  the  wealth  of  the  Indies.  The 
shores  were  covered  with  gigantic  oaks  from  sixty  to  sev- 
enty feet  high,  the  hills  beyond  were  crowned  with  grass 
and  fragrant  flowers,  strange  wild  birds  were  flitting  in 
the  air,  and  the  fish  were  darting  through  the  sparklino 
waters.  Friendly  Indians,  dressed  in  mantles  of  feathen 
and  fine  furs,  and  decorated  with  copper  ornaments,  flocked 
on  board  the  vessel,  bringing  corn,  tobacco,  and  vegetablea 
for  the  mysterious  strangers.  Hudson  received  them  kind- 
ly, and  gave  them  axes,  knives,  shoes,  and  stockings  m 


342  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

return.  But  these  articles  were  all  new  to  them,  and  they 
put  them  to  a  new  use :  they  hung  the  axes  and  shoes 
about  their  necks  for  ornaments,  and  used  the  stockings 
for  tobacco-pouches. 

3.  Hudson  remained  in  the  lower  bay  for  a  week,  send- 
ing a  boat's  crew,  in  the  mean  time,  to  sound  the  river. 
Tliey  passed  the  Narrows,  entered  the  bay,  and  came  in 
sight  of  the  grassy  hills  of  Manhattan.  Passing  through 
the  Kills,  between  Staten  Island  and  Bergen  Neck,  they 
proceeded  six  miles  up  the  river,  and  discovered  Newark 
Bay.  On  tlieir  return,  the  boat  was  attacked  by  the  na- 
tives. An  EngHsh  sailor,  named  John  Colman,  was 
struck  in  the  neck  by  an  arrow,  and  killed  ;  two  others 
were  sliglitly  wounded ;  and  the  rest  escaped  tQ  the  ship 
with  the  dead  body  of  their  companion,  to  carry  the  tid- 
ings of  the  mournful  catastrophe. 

4.  This  was  the  first  white  man's  blood  ever  shed  in  tlie 
territory  ;  and  it  is  probable,  though  not  certain,  that  the 
sailors  themselves  were  the  first  aggressors.  Colman  was 
an  old  comrade  of  Hudson :  he  had  been  the  companion 
of  his  earner  voyages,  and  his  death  inspired  him  with  dis- 
trust and  hatred  of  the  natives,  whom,  before,  he  had  re- 
garded with  favor.  On  the  following  day,  the  9th  of  Se]> 
tember,  the  first  white  man's  grave  in  these  regions  was 
dug  on  Sandy  Hook ;  and  the  spot  was  called  Colman's 
Point,  in  memory  of  the  departed. 

5.  On  the  11th  of  September,  "  The  Half  Moon  "  passed 
througli  the  Narrows,  and  anchored  in  New-York  Bay. 
Distrusting  the  fierce  Manhattans,^  the  captain  remained 
but  a  single  day.  Canoes,  filled  with  men,  women,  and 
children,  flocked  around  the  ship,  bringing  oysters  and 
vegetables  ;  but,  though  these  were  j)urchased,  not  a  native 
was  suffered  to  come  on  board.     The  next  day,  Hudson 


UNION   FIFTH  READER.  343 

made  his  way  up  the  river  wliich  now  bears  his  name,  and 
through  which  he  hoped  to  find  the  long-sought  passage  to 
the  Indies.*  Slowly  sailing  up  the  river,  and  anchoring 
at  niglit  in  the  friendly  harbors  so  plentifully  scattered 
along  his  way,  Hudson  pursued  his  course  toward  the  head 
of  ship-navigation,  admiring  the  ever-changing  panorama 
of  the  beautiful  river,  with  its  lofty  palisades,  its  broad 
bays,  its  picturesque  bends,  its  romantic  highlands,  and  its 
rocky  shores  covered  wath  luxuriant  forests. 

6.  Everywhere  he  was  greeted  with  friendly  reception. 
Tlie  river  Indians,  more  gentle  than  those  of  the  Island 
Manhattan,  welcomed  the  strangers  with  offerings  of  the 
best  the  land  aiforded,  and  urged  them  to  remain  with 
tliem.  Fancvinor  that  the  white  men  were  afraid  of  their 
arrows,  the  Indians  broke  them  in  pieces,  and  threw  them 
into  the  fire.  Game  was  killed  for  their  use,  hospitalities 
were  urged  upon  them,  and  every  attention  which  a  rude 
but  generous  nature  could  prompt  w^as  offered  to  the 
strangers.  Indeed,  this  seems  in  the  beginning  to  have 
been  the  usual  conduct  of  the  natives ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  in  their  future  hostilities,  in  nearly  every  instance,  the 
whites  were  the  aggressors. 

7.  On  the  19th  of  September,  Hudson  reached  the  site 
of  the  present  city  of  Albany,  which,  greatly  to  his  disap- 
pointment, he  found  to  be  the  head  of  navigation.  To  be 
sure  of  the  fact,  he  dispatched  the  mate  with  a  boat's  crew 
to  sound  tlie  river  higher  up ;  but  after  proceeding  eight 
or  nine  leagues,  finding  but  seven  feet  of  water,  they  were 
forced  to  return  with  the  unwelcome  intelligence.     After 

*  In  1607,  a  company  of  English  merchants  fitted  out  a  ship,  and  in- 
trusted it  to  the  command  of  Henry  Hudson,  with  instructions  to  search 
for  a  passage  through  the  Polar  seas  to  China  and  Japan.  In  this,  however, 
he  was  unsuccessful;  and  in  1609  he  renewed  the  search  in  the  service  of 
the  Dutch. 


344  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

remaining  at  anchor  for  several  days,  during  which  time 
he  continued  to  liold  friendly  intercourse  with  the  natives, 
'Hudson  prepared  to  descend  the  river. 

8.  His  stay  here  was  marked  by  a  revel,  the  tradition 
of  which  is  still  preserved*  among  the  Indian  legends,  and 
the  scene  of  which  is  laid  by  some  historians  upon  the 
Island  of  Manhattan.  Various  legends  of  a  similar  im- 
port, concerning  the  introduction  of  the  fatal  "  fire-water," 
are  in  existence  among  the  different  tribes  of  Indians : 
everywhere  the  same  causes  produced  the  same  results, 
and  the  multiplicity  of  the  traditions  may  be  easily 
accounted  for. 

9.  On  the  23d  of  September,  Hudson  commenced  to 
descend  the  river.  He  ascended  in  eleven  days;  he  de- 
scended it  in  the  same  time,  constantly  receiving  demon- 
strations of  friendship  from  the  natives  of  the  neighboring 
shores.  But  unfortunately  this  harmony  was  soon  destined 
to  be  broken.  While  anchored  at  Stony  Point,  an  Indian 
was  detected  pilfering  some  goods  through  the  cabin  win- 
dows. The  offender  was  instantly  shot  by  the  mate,  and 
the  frightened  natives  fled  in  consternation. 

10.  Nor  was  this  the  only  rupture  of  peaceful  relations 
with  the  hitherto  friendly  natives.  Following  the  example 
of  other  discoverers,  who  were  accustomed  to  carry  to 
their  own  homes  specimens  of  the  natives  of  the  new  coun- 
tries which  they  had  visited,  Hudson  had  seized  and  de- 
tained, two  Indians  on  board  his  ship  at  Sandy  Hook,  both 
of  whom  had  escaped  during  his  passage  up  the  river,  and 
were  lying  in  wait  for  his  return,  to  avenge  their  captivity, 

11.  Their  narrative  had  enlisted  the  sympathies  of  their 
countrymen,  and  a  large  body  gathered  in  their  canoes  at 
the  head  of  Manhattan  Island,  and  attempted  to  board  the 
vessel.     Repulsed  in  their  attempt,  they  discharged  a  harm^ 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEE.  34  i 

less  flight  of  arrows  at  the  yacht,  which  were  returned  by 
a  musket-shot,  which  killed  two  of  their  number.  They 
scattered  in  dismay  only  to  gather  again,  re-enforced  by 
several  hundreds,  at  Fort  Washington,  where  they  again 
attacked  the  vessel  as  she  was  floating  down  the  stream. 
A  few  musket-shots  soon  put  them  to  flight,  with  the  loss 
of  nine  of  their  warriors. 

12.  This  strange,  new  weapon  of  the  white  men,  speak- 
ing in  tones  of  thunder,  and  belching  forth  fire  and  smoke, 
was  more  terrible  to  them  than  an  army  of  invaders. 
They  did  not  return  to  the  attack,  and  Hudson  pursued 
his  way  unmolested  to  the  bay  near  Hoboken,  where  he 
anchored  for  the  last  time,  and,  lying  windbound  there  for 
one  day,  set  sail  for  Europe  on  the  4th  of  October,  one 
month  after  his  arrival,  to  carry  to  his  patrons  the  news  of 
the  discovery  of  a  new  country,  and  the  opening  of  a  new 
commerce. 


LESSON    CYIII. 

*  Phil'  IP  of  Macedon,  who  was  raised  to  the  supremacy  over  all  Greece, 
Avas  born  383  B.C.  Athens  and  Thebes  had  reached  their  highest  vigor 
when  Philip  came  to  the  throne.  He  soon  possessed  himself  of  Am- 
phipolis,  which  gave  him  access  to  the  gold-mines  of  Mount  Pangsens; 
which  became  a  source  of  immense  revenue  to  him,  and  the  reason  of 
his  founding  the  town  of  Philippi.  He  marched  into  Thessaly  at  the 
head  of  twenty  thousand  men.  The  terror  of  his  name  provoked  the 
"  Philippics  "  of  Demosthenes,  who  endeavored  to  rouse  the  people  of 
Athens  to  form  a  general  league  against  him ;  but  they  were  cajoled  or 
bribed  by  Philip  into  a  shameful  peace,  and  he  marched  into  Greece, 
and  was  acknowledged  the  chief  of  the  whole  Hellenic  Avorld.  He  was 
murdered  at  the  instigation  of  Olyrapias,  while  engaged  at  a  religious 
festival,  336  years  B.C. 

^  Frank'  ltn.    See  note,  page  14.5. 

'  Gal  va'  ni  Luigi,  a  distinguished  physician  and  philologist,  was  born  at 
Bologna,  1737;  and  died  1798.     His  name  has  become  a  household 


346  SAKDEES'  UNION  SEEIES. 

word  from  liis  great  discovery  of  galvanism.  The  story,  as  told,  is  as 
follows ;  —  The  physician  had  been  pi'eparing  some  frog-soup  for  his 
sick  wife,  and  some  of  these  animals  were  lying  stripped  of  their  skins. 
An  assistant  had  accidentally  touclied  the  crural  nerve  of  one  of  the- 
animals  with  the  point  of  a  scalpel,  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  conductor 
of  an  electrical  machine,  when  the  limbs  were  immediately  thrown  into 
convulsions.  Galvani  supposed  that  the  cause  of  this  was,  as  he  called 
it,  "  animal  electricity ; "  but  Volta  and  others  corrected  the  error,  nnc' 
showed  that  it  was  due  to  chemical  electricity,  or  Galvanism. 

CHOICE    EXTRACTS. 

I. 

PERSONAL  RELIGION. 

WEBSTER. 

POLITICAL  eminence  and  professional  fame  fade  away 
and  die  with  all  things  eartlily.  Nothing  of  charac- 
ter is  really  permanent  but  virtue  and  personal  worth. 
These  remain.  Whatever  of  excellence  is  wrought  into 
the  soul  itself,  belongs  to  both  worlds.  Real  goodness 
does  not  attach  itself  merely  to  this  life ;  it  points  to 
another  world.  Political  or  professional  reputation  can 
not  last  forever ;  but  a  conscience  void  of  offense  toward 
God  and  man  is  an  inheritance  for  eternity. 

2.  Religion,  tlierefore,  is  a  necessary  and  indispensable 
clement  in  any  great  human  character.  There  is  no  liv- 
ins:  witliout  it.  Relio-ion  is  the  tie  that  connects  man  Avith 
his  Creator,  and  holds  him  to  His  throne.  If  that  tie  be 
all  sundered,  all  broken,  he  floats  away,  a  worthless  atom 
in  the  universe,  its  proper  attractions  all  gone,  its  destiny 
thwarted,  and  its  whole  future  nothing  but  darkness,  deso- 
lation, and  death.  A  man  with  no  sense  of  religious  duty 
is  he  Avhom  the  Scriptures  describe,  in  such  terse  but  ter- 
rific lanmiao-e,  as  livinix  *'  without  God  in  the  world.*' 
Such  a  man  is  out  of  his  proper  being,  —  out  of  the  circle 


UNION   FIFTH  READER.  347 

o^  all  his  duties,  and  out  of  the  circle  of  all  his  happiness, 
and  awaj,  far,/ar  away,  from  the  purposes  of  his  creation. 

II. 
THE  BEAM   OF   DEVOTION, 

GEOKGK  P.   MORRIS. 

1.  I  NEVER  could  find  a  good  reason 

Why  sorrow  unbidden  should  stay, 
And  all  the  bright  joys  of  life's  season 

Be  driven  unheeded  away. 
Our  cares  would  wake  no  more  emotion, 

Were  we  to  our  lot  but  resigned, 
Than  pebbles  flung  into  the  ocean. 

That  leave  scarce  a  ripple  behind. 

2.  The  world  has  a  spirit  of  beauty. 

Which  looks  uj^on  all  for  the  best, 
And,  while  it  discharges  its  duty, 

To  Providence  leaves  all  the  rest : 
That  spirit's  the  beam  of  devotion 

Which  lights  us  through  life  to  its  close, 
And  sets,  like  the  sun  in  the  ocean, 

More  beautiful  far  than  it  rose. 

III. 
PROGRESS. 

Two  principles  govern  the  moral  and  intellectual  world. 
One  is  perpetual  progress^  the  other  the  necessary  limita- 
tions  to  that  progress.  If  the  former  alone  prevailed, 
there  would  be  nothing  steadfast  and  durable  on  earth, 
and  the  whole  of  social  life  would  be  the  sport  of  winds 
and  waves.  If  the  latter  had  exclusive  sway,  or  even 
if  it  obtained  a  mischievous  preponderancy,  every  thing 


348  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

would  petrify  or  rot.  The  best  ages  of  the  world  are 
always  those  in  which  the  two  principles  are  the  most 
equally  balanced.  In  such  ages,  every  enlightened  man 
ought  to  adopt  hoih  principles  into  his  whole  mind  and  con- 
duct, and  with  one  hand  develop  what  he  can^  with  the 
other  restrain  and  uphold  what  he  ouglit. 

IV. 
LOVE  DUE  TO   THE   CREATOR. 

G.  GRIFFIN. 

1.  And  ask  ye  why  He  claims  our  love'  ? 

O,  answer,  all  ye  winds  of  even  ! 
O,  answer,  all  ye  lights  above. 

That  watch  in  yonder  darkening  heaven  ! 
Thou  Earth,  in  vernal  radiance  gay 

As  when  His  angels  first  arrayed  thee, 
And  thou,  O  deep-tongued  Ocean,  say 

Why  man  should  love  the  Mind  that  made  thee  t 

2.  There's  not  a  flower  that  decks  the  vale, 

,  There's  not  a  beam  that  lio;hts  the  mountain. 
There's  not  a  shrub  that  scents  the  gale, 

There's  not  a  wind  that  stirs  the  fountain, 
There's  not  a  hue  that  paints  the  rose, 

There's  not  a  leaf  around  us  lying, 
But  in  its  use  or  beauty  show^s 

True  love  to  us,  and  love  undying. 

V. 

INFLUENCE   OF   GOLD. 

ADDISON. 

A  MAN  who  is  furnished  with  arguments  from  the  mint, 
will  convince  his  antagonist  much  sooner  than  one  who 
draws  them  from  reason  and  philosophy.      Gold  is  a  won* 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  849 

derful  clearer  of  the  understanding.  It  dissipates  every 
doubt  and  scruple  in  an  instant ;  accommodates  itself  to 
the  meanest  capacities  ;  silences  the  loud  and  clamorous, 
and  brings  over  the  most  obstinate  and  inflexible.  Philip 
of  Macedon '  was  a  man  of  most  invincible  reason  in  this 
way.  He  refuted  by  it  all  the  wisdom  of  Athens,  con- 
founded their  statesmen,  struck  their  orators  dumb,  and, 
at  length,  argued  them  out  of  all  their  liberties. 

VI. 

INGRATITUDE. 

SHAKSPEARE. 

1.  Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  Avind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 

As  man's  ingratitude : 
Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen, 
Because  thou  art  not  seen, 

Although  thy  breath  be  rude, 

2.  Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky, 
Thou  dost  not  bite  so  nigh 

As  benefits  forgot : 
Though  thou  the  waters  warp, 
Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp 

As  friend  remembered  not. 

VII. 
THE    BIBLE. 

AVAYLAND. 

That  the  truths  of  the  Bible  have  the  power  of  awa- 
kening an  intense  moral  feeling  in  man,  under  every 
variety  of  character,  learned  or  ignorant,  civilized  or  sav- 
age, —  that  they  make  bad  men  good,  and  send  a  pulse  of 


350  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

healthful  feeling  through  all  the  domestic,  civil,  and  social 
relations,  —  that  they  teach  men  to  love  right,  to  hate 
wrong,  and  to  seek  each  other's  welfare,  as  the  children  of 
one  common  Parent,  —  that  they  control  the  baleful  pas- 
sions of  the  human  heart,  and  thus  make  men  })roficient 
in  the  science  of  self-government,  —  and,  finally,  that  they 
teach  him  to  aspire  after  a  conformity  to  a  Being  of  infinite 
holiness,  and  fill  him  with  hopes  infinitely  more  purifying, 
more  exalted,  more  suited  to  his  nature,  than  any  other 
which  this  world  has  ever  known,  —  are  facts  as  incontro- 
vertible as  the  laws  of  philosophy,  or  the  demonstrations 
of  mathematics. 

VIIL 

THE    MOMENTS. 

J.  L.  KGGLESTON. 

1.  The  moments  are  little  and  unseen  things; 
Liglit  forms  have  they,  and  unseen  wings ; 

They  glide  o'er  our  heads  with  the  morning's  beam, 
And  slip  from  our  grasp  with  the  day's  last  gleam ; 
They  tick  in  our  ears  with  the  staid  old  clock ; 
Tiiey  stand  at  our  hearts,  and  there  warningly  knock; 
They  bid  us  not  loiter,  if  Fame  we  would  win  ; 
They  knock,  and  entreat  us  to  gather  them  in. 

2.  O,  list  to  the  moments !  though  little  they  seem, 
They  are  bearing  your  bark  on  a  swift,  silent  stream; 
And  onward,  still  onward^  you  glide  from  the  shore. 
To  that  vast,  boundless  ocean  where  time  is  no  more. 
Take  heed  to  the  moments ;  for  with  them  they  bear 
Of  gems  the  most  precious,  and  diamonds  rare. 
Take  care  of  the  moments ;  for  life's  but  a  span  ; 
Then  carefully  hoard  them,  0  vain,  dreaming  man  I 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  351 


IX. 


THE  WAR-HORSE. 

BOOK  OK  JOB.  * 

Hast  tljou  given  the  horse  strength  ?  hast  thou  clothed 
his  neck  with  thunder  ? 

Canst  thou  make  him  afraid  as  a  grasshopper?  the  glory 
of  his  nostrils  is  terrible. 

He  paweth  in  the  valley,  and  rejoiceth  in  his  strength  ; 
he  croeth  en  to  meet  the  armed  men. 

He  mocketh  at  fear,  and  is  not  affrighted ;  neither  turn- 
eth  he  back  from  the  sword. 

The  quiver  rattleth  against  him,  the  glittering  spear,  and 
the  shield. 

He  swalloweth  the  ground  with  fierceness  and  rage; 
neither  believeth  he  that  it  is  the  sound  of  the  trumpet. 

He  saith  among  the  trumpets,  —  ''Ha,  ha!"  and  he 
smelleth  the  battle  afar  off,  the  thunder  of  the  captains, 


and  the  shouting. 


X. 

SECLUSION. 


Oh,  how  canst  thou  renounce  the  boundless  store 
Of  charms  which  Nature  to  her  votary  yields  ? 
The  warbling  woodland,  the  resounding  shore, 
The  pomp  of  groves,  and  garniture  of  fields. 
All  that  the  genial  ray  of  morning  gilds. 
And  all  that  echoes  to  the  song  of  even. 
All  that  the  mountain's  sheltering  bosom  shields. 
And  all  the  dread  magnificence  of  heaven, — 
Oh,  how  canst  thou  renounce,  and  hope  to  be  forgiven  ? 


332  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

XL 

THE   POWER  OF  LITTLE  THINGS. 

SMILES. 

1.  When  Franklin^  made  his  discovery  of  the  identity 
of  Hghtning  and  electricity,  it  was  sneered  at,  and  people 
asked,  —  "  Of  what  use  is  it?"  To  which  his  apt  reply 
was,  —  *'  What  is  the  use  of  a  child  ?  It  may  become  a 
man ! "  When  Galvani^  discovered  that  a  froo^'s  Icir 
twitched  when  placed  in  contact  with  different  metals,  it 
could  scarcely  have  been  imagined  that  so  apparently  in- 
significant a  fact  could  have  led  to  important  results.  Yet 
therein  lay  the  germ  of  the  Electric  Telegraph,  which 
binds  the  intelligence  of  continents  together,  and  probably, 
before  many  years  elapse,  will  "  put  a  girdle  around  the 
globe."  So,  too,  little  bits  of  stone  and  fossil,  dug  out  of 
the  earth,  intelligently  interpreted,  have  issued  in  the  sci- 
ence of  geology,  and  the  practical  operations  of  mining,  in 
which  large  capitals  are  invested,  and  vast  numbers  of  per- 
sons profitably  employed. 

2.  The  gigantic  machinery  employed  in  pumping  our 
mines,  working  our  mills  and  manufactories,  and  driving 
our  steam-ships  and  locomotives,  in  like  manner,  depends 
for  its  supply  of  power  upon  so  slight  an  agency  as  ])arti- 
cles  of  water  expanded  by  heat.  The  steum  Avliich  we 
see  issuing  from  the  common  tea-kettle,  when  pent  up 
within  an  ingeniously- contrived  mechanism,  displays  a 
force  equal  to  that  of  millions  of  horses,  and  contains 
a  power  to  rebuke  the  waves,  and  to  set  even  the  hurri- 
cane at  defiance.  Nay,  it  is  the  same  power  at  work 
within  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  which  has  been  the  cause 
of  many  of  those  semi-miraculous  catastrophes  —  volcanoes 
and  earthquakes  —  that  have  played  so  mighty  a  part  in 
the  history  of  the  globe. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  353 

XII. 
INFLUENCE. 

MRS.  S.  T.  BOLTON, 

The  smallest  bark  on  Life's  tumultuous  ocean 
Will  leave  a  track  behind  for  evermore ; 
The  lightest  wave  of  hifluence,  set  in  motion, 
E^itencls  and  widens  to  the  eternal  shore. 
We  should  be  wary,  then,  who  go  before 
A  myriad  yet  to  be,  and  we  should  take 
Our  bearing  carefully,  wKere  breakers  roar. 
And  fearful  tempests  gather :  one  mistake 
May  wreck  unnumbered  barks  that  follow  in  our  wake. 


LESSON   CIX. 

-  Poi/  Y  phe'mus,  a  fabulous  monster, of  g%antic  size;  one  of  the  Cyclops; 

who  had  but  one  eye,  and  that  in  the  middle  of  the  forehead.     The 

allusion  in  the  text  is  to  his  efforts  at  revenge,  after  having  been  blinded 

by  Ulysses. 
*  SrHiNX,  a  monster  usually  represented  as  having  the  body  of  a  lion,  with 

a  human  countenance. 

THE    SEA. 

FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF  MICrfELET. 

11HAT  immense  mass  of  water  which  we  call  the  sea, 
.  dark  and  inscrutable  in  its  great  depths,  ever  and 
always  impresses  the  human  mind  with  a  vague  and  re- 
sistless awe.  With  what  a  soothing,  hallowed,  and  hallow- 
ing melancholy  do  we,  evening  after  evening,  behold  the 
sun,  that  great  world's  joy,  that  brilliant,  life-quickening, 
and  Hfe-giving  sun  of  ah  that  live,  fade,  sink,  die,  —  though 
so  surely  to  rise  and  live  again !  All !  as  that  glorious 
sun  departs,  how  tenderly  do  Ave  think  of  the  human  loves 
23 


364  SANDERS'   UNION  SEEIES. 

that  have  died  from  us,  —  of  the  liour  when  we,  also, 
shall  thus  depart  from  human  ken,  lost,  for  the  time,  to 
this  world,  to  shine  more  gloriously  in  that  other  world, 
now  dark,  distant,  unknown,  but  certain ! 

2.  Descend  to  even  a  slight  depth  in  the  sea,  and  the 
beauty  and  brilliancy  of  the  upper  light  are  lost.  You 
enter  into  a  persistent  twilight,  and  misty,  half-lurid  haze; 
a  little  lower,  and  even  that  sinister  and  hideous  twilight  is 
lost,  and  all  around  you  is  night,  showing  nothing,  but 
suggesting  every  thing  that  darkness  can  suggest.  Above, 
'below,  all  around,  darkness,  utter  darkness,  save  when, 
from  time  to  time,  the  swift  and  gracefully  terrible  motion 
of  some  passing  monster  of  the  deep  makes  "  darkness 
visible  "  for  a  brief  moment;  and  then  that  passing  gleam 
leaves  you  in  darkness  more  dense,  more  utter,  more  terri- 
ble, than  ever. 

3.  The  waters  of  the  sea  afford  no  encouragement  by 
their  transparency.  Opaque,  heavy,  mighty,  merciless, 
the  sea  is  a  liquid  Polyphemus,^  a  blind  giant  that  cares 
not,  reasons  not,  feels  not,  but  hits  a  terribly  hard  blow. 
Trust  yourself  upon  that  vast  and  ever-heaving  bosom ^ 
bold  swimmer,  and  marvelously  will  you  be  upheld  ;  the 
mighty  thing  that  upholds  you,  dominates  you  too ;  you 
are  a  mere  weak  child,  upheld  indeed,  for  the  instant,  by 
a  giant  hand.  In  another  moment,  that  giant  hand  may 
smite  you  with  a  giant's  fatal  force. 

4.  Childish  as  we  may  regard  those  terrors,  they  really 
are  much  the  same  as  the  emotions  which  we  may  any 
day  see  evinced  by  an  inland  novice,  who,  for  the  first  time, 
looks  upon  the  sea.  And  not  merely  man,  but  all  animals, 
experience  the  same  surprise,  the  same  shock,  when  sud- 
denlv  brouorht  face  to  face  with  the  mio;htv  water-world. 
Even  at  ebb-tide,  when  the  water  so  gently  and  so  lovingly 


UNION  FIFTH  READEE.  355 

caresses,  as  it  leaves,  that  shore  to  which  it  shall  so  boister- 
ously return,  your  liorse  quite  evidently  likes  it  not:  he 
shudders,  balks,  snorts,  and  very  often  bolts  from  it  at  the 
very  top  of  his  speed.  Your  dog  recoils,  howls,  and  never 
concludes  a  real  peace  with  the  element  which  to  him  seems 
positively  hostile. 

5.  Long  before  we  are  face  to  face  with  the  sea,  we  can 
hear  and  imagine  that  grand  and  terrible  entity.  At  first, 
we  hear  only  a  dull,  uniform,  and  distant  moaning,  which 
grows  louder  and  louder  still,  until  its  majestic  roar  silences, 
or  covers,  all  minor  sounds.  Very  soon  we  perceive  that 
that  roar  is  not  monotonous,  but  has  its  alternating  notes, 
' — its  full,  rich,  mellow  tenor,  and  its  round,  deep,  majestic 
bass.  The  pendulum  of  the  clock  oscillates  less  regularly 
than  that  alternating  moan  and  roar  of  the  Ocean  in  her 
grand  unrest.  In  "  what  those  wild  waves  are  saying," 
we  feel,  or  fancv  we  f^el,  the  thrilling  intonations  of  life. 

6.  And  how  many  other  voices  hath  the  mighty  Sea,  I 
know  not,  and  will  not  anticipate.  I  will  not  speak  of 
those  terrible  concerts  in  which,  haply,  ere  long,  she  will 
take  the  principal  part ;  ( f  her  duets  with  the  rocks ;  of 
the  basses,  those  muttered  thunders  which  she  utters  in 
the"  deep  caverns  of  the  rocky  shore ;  or  those  strange,  wild, 
weird,  shrieking  tones,  in  which  we  seem  to  recognize  the 
melancholy  cry  of  ''-Help!  spare!  save  I '^  of  some  fear- 
fully imperiled  humanity.  No :  let  us,  for  the  present, 
contemplate  her  in  her  calmer  moods,  when  she  is  strong, 
indeed,  but  not  violent. 

7.  We  need  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  childhood  and 
ignorance  are  astounded  when  they  first  find  themselves 
face  to  face  with  that  vast  and  mysterious  sphinx"^  of  the 
great  Master's  sculpture,  the  ocean.  Why,  in  fact,  should 
we  be  astonished  by  their  gaze  of  mingled  awe,  admiration, 


356  SANDEKS'  UNION  SERIES. 

and  bewilderment,  when  toe  ourselves,  despite  our  early 
culture  and  life-long  experience,  see  so  much  in  the  great 
riddle  of  that  A^ast  sphinx,  which  we  can  not  even  hope  to 
explain  ? 

8.  What  is  the  real  extent  of  the  ocean  ?  That  it  is 
greater  than  that  of  the  earth,  is  about  as  much  as,  con- 
scientiously, we  can  at  all  positively  affirm.  On  the  entire 
surface  of  the  globe,  water  is  the  generality^  land  the  excep- 
iion.  But  what  is  tlieir  relative  proportion  ?  That  water 
covers  four-fifths  of  the  globe  is  probable  ;  yet  it  is  difficult, 
not  to  say  impossible,  to  answer  the  question  precisely. 

9.  The  real  depth  of  the  sea  is  still  less  known  to  us  than 
its  extent.  We  are  only  at  the  mere  commencement  of 
our  early,  few,  and  imperfect  soundings.  That  those 
mighty  depths  contain  a  great  and  diversified  world  of 
life,  love,  war,  and  reproduction  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  Ave 
may  with  confidence  affirm  ;  but  we  have  only  and  barely 
touched  vipon  the  threshold  of  that  world.  If  we  need  the 
ocean,  the  ocean  in  no  Avise  needs  us.  Nature,  fresh  from 
the  hand  of  Deity,  scorns  the  too  prying  gaze,  and  the  too 
shalloAV  judgment  of  finite  but  presumptuous  man. 

10.  Shifting  and  capricious  as  the  ocean  appears,  it  suf- 
fers, in  reality,  no  change  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  perfect 
model  of  regularity.  The  really  constantly  changing  crea- 
ture is  man  !  Fragile  and  fleeting  as  man  is,  he  has,  in- 
deed, good  reason  for  reflection  and  humility,  when  he 
iinds  himself  in  presence  of  the  great  unchanging  and 
unchangeable  poAvers  of  Nature,  Avhich  are  ever  just,  grand, 
and  glorious,  as  his  hope,  his  belief,  and  certainty  of  a 
spiritual  immortality.  Despite  that  delightful  hope,  that 
confident  belief,  that  sustaining  certainty,  man  yet  is  neces- 
sarily and  terribly  saddened  by  the  strange  suddenness  Avith 
which  he  hourly  sees  the  thread  of  his  life  forever  broken. 


tJNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  .        357 

11.  Wlienever  we  approach  the  Sea,  she  seems  to  mur- 
mur from  her  Jark,  inscrutable  depths,  —  unchangeable  as 
His  will  who  made  it,  —  "Mortal,  to-morrow  you  shall 
pass  away ;  bnt  I,  /am,  and  ever  shall  be,  unchanged,  un- 
changeable, mighty,  and  mysterious  !  The  earth  will  not 
only  receive  your  bones,  but  will  soon  convert  them  into 
kindred  earth  ;  but  /,  ever  and  always,  shall  remain,  the 
same  majestic  entity,  —  the  great  perfectly-balanced  Life, 
daily  harmonizing  myself  with  the  harmonious  and  majes- 
tic life  of  the  bright  worlds  that  shine  above  ami  around 
you!" 

12.  Look  upon  the  Ocean  where  and  when  you  may, 
you  everywhere  and  always  find  her  the  same  grand  and 
terrible  teacher  of  that  hardest  of  all  the  lessons  man  has 
to  learn,  man's  insignificance  !  Take  your  stand  upon 
some  bold  headland,  from  which,  with  earnest  and  well- 
trained  eye,  you  can  sweep  the  entire  horizon,  or  wander, 
with  shortened  ken,  on  the  sandy  desert,  —  go  whither- 
soever you  will,  where  old  Ocean  shall  lash  the  shore,  and 
everywhere  and  always  you  shall  find  her  the  same, — 

MIGHTY    AND   TERRIBLE  ! 


LESSON   ex. 

A  WILD  NIGHT  AT   SEA. 

CIIAULES  DICKENS. 

0^,  on^  ON,  over  the  countless  miles  of  angry  space,  roll 
the  long  heaving  billows.  Mountains  and  caves  arc 
here,  and  yet  are  not ;  for  what  is  now  the  one  is  now 
the  other  ;  then  all  is  but  a  boiling  heap  of  rushing  water. 


358  SANDEES'  UNION  SERIES. 

Pursuit,  and  flight,  and  mad  return  of  wave  on  wave,  and 
savage  struggling,  ending  in  a  spouting-up  of  foam  that 
whitens  the  black  night ;  incessant  change  of  place,  and 
form,  and  Ime ;  constancy  in  nothing  but  eternal  strife : 
on,  on^  ON  they  roll,  and  darker'  grows  the  night,  and 
louder  howl  the  winds,  and  more  clamorous  and  fierce 
become  the  million  voices  in  the  sea ;  when  the  wild  cry 
goes  forth  upon  the  storm,  "A  Ship  !  " 

2.  Onward  she  comes,  in  gallant  combat  with  the  ele- 
ments, her  tall  masts  trembling,  and  her  timbers  starting 
on  the  strain  :  omoard  she  comes,  now  high  upon  the  curl- 
ing billows,  now  low  down  in  the  hollows  of  the  sea,  as 
hiding  for  the  moment  from  its  fury;  and  every  storm- 
voice  in  the  air  and  water  cries  more  loudly  yet,  "A 
Ship  !  "  Still  she  comes  strjving  on  ;  and,  at  her  boldness 
and  the  spreading  cry,  the  angry  waves  rise  up  above  each 
other's  hoary  heads  to  look  ;  and  round  about  the  vessel, 
far  as  the  mariners  on  her  decks  can  pierce  into  the 
gloom,  they  press  upon  her,  forcing  each  other  down,  and 
starting  up,  and  rushing  forward  from  afar,  in  dreadful 
curiosity. 

3.  High  over  her  they  break,  and  round  her  surge  and 
roar,  and,  giving  place  to  others,  meaningly  depart,  and 
dash  themselves  to  fragments,  in  their  baffled  anorer:  still 
she  comes  onward  bravely.  And  though  the  eager  multi- 
tude crowd  thick  and  fast  upon  her  all  the  night,  and  dawn 
of  day  dissevers  the  untiring  train  yet  bearing  down  upon 
the  ship  in  an  eternity  of  troubled  water,  onward  she 
comes,  with  dim  lights  burning  in  her  hull,  and  people 
there,  asleep,  as  if  no  deadly  element  were  peering  in  at 
every  seam  and  chink,  and  no  drowned  seaman's  grave, 
with  but  a  plank. to  cover  it,  were  yawning  in  the  unfath- 
omable depths  below. 


UNION  FIFTH  BEADEK.  359 


LESSON     CXI. 
THE   SAILOR'S  EARLY  HOME. 

EEV%  S.    D.   PHELPS. 

AWAY,  away,  o'er  the  dashing  spray, 
My  bark  speeds  light  and  free  ; 
And  the  piping  gale,  through  the  straining  sail, 

Whistles  loud  in  its  merry  glee  ; 
And  the  stars  at  night,  with  luster  bright, 

Shine  out  o'er  the  vast  expanse ; 
And  the  moon  from  her  throne  on  high  1ooJj:s  down 
On  the  restless  billows'  dance. 

Tliere's  a  charm  in  the   eye  when  the  waves  leap 
high. 

And  a  music  in  their  roar ; 
And  the  stars,  as  they  shine  in  their  spheres  divine, 

A  joy  on  the  spirits  pour. 
But  the  sea  in  its  might,  and  the  stars  with  their 
light. 

That  glance  on  the  crested  foam, 
Can  not  make  me  gay ;  for  my  thoughts  are  away 

In  my  childhood's  early  home. 

And  dreams  come  fast  of  the  blissful  past, 

Ere  my  heart  had  felt  or  known 
The  ills  of  life,  and  the  cares  and  strife 

That  oppress  and  weigh  it  down ; 
Or  experience,  bought  by  suffering,  taught 

The  lesson  sad  and  drear. 
That  each  sparkling  joy  finds  its  sad  alloy, 

And  hope  is  chilled  by  fear. 


360'  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

4.  In  a  quiet  nook,  by  a  gentle  brook, 

Stands  that  home  to  memory  dear ; 
And  the  purling  stream,  as  it  glides  in  the  beam 

Of  the  sun,  shines  bright  and  clear. 
I  am  there  again  with  a  happy  train, — 

The  same  who  in  other  years 
Held  their  festive  play  with  spirits  gay, 

And  eyes  undimmed  by  tears. 

5.  Those  years  as  they  passed  have  shadows  east 

On  them^  as  they  have  on  me, 
And  none  remain  who  swelled  the  train 

Of  joy  'neath  the  household  tree  ; 
And  I  weep  as  the  thought  with  sadness  fraught 

Settles  dark  on  my  troubled  brain. 
That  the  bliss  I  proved  and  the  friends  I  loved 

Shall  never  be  mine  again. 

G.  To  the  church-yard  nigh,  where  the  wild  winds  sigh, 

With  a  low  and  mournful  tone. 
And  the  peaceful  rest  of  earth's  tranquil  breast, 

The  cherished  ones  are  gone. 
There,  clustering  round,  in  that  hallowed  ground, 

Affection's  tablets  stand ; 
And  the  last  stone  reared  on  that  spot  endeared 

Was  raised  by  my  trembling  hand. 

7.  Away,  far  away,  o'er  the  dashing  spray, 

My  bark  bears  me  fast  and  free ; 
And  my  destiny  lies  under  other  skies 

Than  those  so  beloved  by  me. 
And  downward  apace  o'er  my  storm-beaten  face, 

Tears  fall  like  the  summer  rain, 
As  my  thoughts  wander  back  from  my  ocean  track 

To  the  home  I  shall  ne'er  see  a^ain. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  361 


LESSON   CXIL 

THE   FIREMAN. 

R.   T.    CONRAD, 

1.  rpHE  City  slumbers !     0)  O'er  its  mighty  walls 
X   Night's  dusky  mantle,  soft  and  silent,  falls  ; 
Sleep  o'er  the  world  slow  waves  its  wand  of  lead, 
And  welcome  torpors  wrap  each  sinking  head. 
Stilled  is  the  stir  of  labor  and  of  life ; 

Hushed  is  the  hum,  and  tranquillized  the  strife. 
Man  is  at  rest,  with  all  his  hopes  and  fears ; 
The  young  forget  their  sports,  the  old  their  cares : 
The  grave  or  gay,  all  those  who  joy  or  weep, 
Now  rest  unconscious  on  the  arm  of  sleep. 

2.  Sweet  is  the  pillowed  rest  of  Beauty  now, 
And  slumber  smiles  upon  her  tranquil  brow ; 
Her  bright  dreams  lead  her  to  the  moonlit  tide, 
Her  heart's  own  partner  wandering  by  her  side. 

(j9.)  'Tis  summer's  eve  :  the  soft  gales  scarcely  rouse 
The  low-voiced  ripple  and  the  rustling  boughs  ; 
And,  faint  and  far,  some  minstrel's  melting  tone 
Breathes  to  her  heart  a  music  like  its  own. 

3.  But  hark  !     ('')  O  horror !  what  a  crash  is  there  I 
What  shriek  is  that  which  fills  the  midnight  air  ? 

Qff')  "'TIS  fire!  'tis  fire!    She  wakes  to  dream  no  morel 
The  hot  blast  rushes  throuo-h  the  blazino;  door ! 
The  dun  smoke  eddies  round  ;  and,  hark  !  that  cry  ! 
"  Help!  HELP ! — Will  no  one  aid  ?   /  die  !  I  die  !  *' 
(=)  She  seeks  the  casement :  shuddering  at  its  hight, 
She  turns  ao-ain  ;  the  fierce  flames  mock  her  flio-ht : 

16 


362  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

Along  the  crackling  stairs  they  fiercely  play, 
And  roar,  exulting,  as  they  seize  their  prey. 
"  Help !  HELP  !  —  Will  no  one  come  ?  "     She  can 

no  more. 
But,  pale  and  breathless,  sinks  upon  the  floor. 

4.  Will  no  one  save  thee'  ?    Yes^ ;  there  yet  is  07ie 
Remains  to  save,  when  hope  itself  is  gone  ; 
When  all  have  fled,  when  all  but  he  would  fly. 
The  Fireman  comes,  to  rescue  or  to  die  ! 
He  mounts  the  stair  —  it  wavers  'neath  his  tread  ; 
He  seeks  the  room — flames  flashing  round  his  head; 
He  bursts  the  door ;  he  lifts  her  prostrate  frame. 
And  turns  ao-ain  to  brave  the  rao-ino;  flame. 

6.  The  Fire-blast  smites  him  with  his  stifling  breath  ; 
The  fallino;  timbers  menace  him  with  death ; 
The  sinking  floors  his  hurried  step  betray, 
And  ruin  crashes  round  his  desperate  way. 
Hot  smoke  obscures — ten  thousand  cinders  rise — 
Yet  still  he  staggers  forward  with  his  prize. 
He  leaps  from  burning  stair  to  stair.      On!  on  ! 
(<  )  Courage!     One  effort  more,  and  all  is  won  ! 

The  stair  is  passed — the  blazing  hall  is  braved  ! 
Still  on  !    yet  on  !     Once  more !     Thank  Heaven^ 
she's  saved  ! 

6.  The  hardy  seaman  pants  the  storm  to  brave, 
For  beckoning  Fortune  wooes  him  to  the  wave ; 
The  soldier  battles  'neath  his  smoky  shroud. 
For  Glory's  bow  is  painted  on  the  cloud  ; 
The  fireman  also  dares  each  shape  of  death. 
But  not  for  Fortune's  gold  nor  Glory's  wreath. 


UNION  FIFTH   READER.  363 

No  selfish  throbs  within  their  breasts  are  known  ; 
No  hope  of  praise  or  profit  cheers  them  on : 
They  ask  no  meed,  no  fame ;  and  only  seek 
To  shield  the  suffering  and  protect  the  weak. 

7.   For  this  the  howling  midnight  storm  they  avoo  ; 
For  this  the  raging  flames  rush  fearless  through ; 
Mount  the  frail  rafter— ^thrid  the  smoky  hall  — 
Or  toil,  unshrinking,  'neath  the  tottering  wall : 
Nobler  than  they  who,  with  fraternal  blood. 
Dye  the  dread  field  or  tinge  the  fearful  flood, — 
O'er  their  firm  ranks  no  crimson  banners  wave  ; 
They  dare — they  suffer — not  to  slay,  hut  save! 


LESSON   CXIII. 

•  Sa  mar'  I  TAX  and  Le' vite.  For  an  account  of,  see  the  10th  chapter  of 
Luke,  from  the  30th  to  the  37th  verse. 

'  Syb' A  RITE,  an  inhabitant  of  Syb'aris,  an  ancient  city  of  Italy,  noted  for 
the  effeminacy  and  vohiptuousness  of  its  inhabitants.  A  person  de- 
voted to  luxury  and  pleasure. 

BENEFITS   OF   AGRICULTURE. 

D.  S.   DICKINSON. 

"^TTE  have  the  high  authority  of  history,  sacred  and  pro- 
VV  fane,  for  declaring  that  agriculture  is  a  dignified  and 
time-honored  calling, — ordained  and  favored  of  Heaven, 
and  sanctioned  by  experience ;  and  we  are  invited  to  its 
jnirsuit  by  the  rewards  of  the  past  and  the  present,  and 
the  rich  promises  of  the  future.  While  the  fierce  spirit  of 
war,  with  its  embattled  legions,  has,  in  its  proud  trnmiphs, 
""  whelmed  nations  in  blood,  and  wrapped  cities  in  fire," 


364  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

and  filled  the  land  with  lamentation  and  mourning,  it  has 
not  brought  peace  or  happiness  to  a  single  hearth,  dried 
the  tears  of  the  widows  or  hushed  the  cries  of  the  orphans 
it  has  made,  bound  up  or  soothed  one  crushed  or  broken 
spirit,  nor  hightened  the  joys  of  domestic  or  social  life  in 
a  sincfle  bosom. 

2.  But  how  many  dark  recesses  of  the  earth  has  agricult- 
ure illumined  with  its  blessings  !  How  many  firesides  has 
it  lighted  up  with  radiant  gladness !  How  many  hearts 
has  it  made  buoyant  with  domestic  hope  !  How  often,  like 
the  Good  Samaritan,^  has  it  alleviated  want  and  misery, 
while  the  priest  and  the  Levite  of  power  have  passed  by  on 
the  other  side  !  How  many  family  altars,  and  gathering- 
places  of  aflTection,  has  it  erected !  How  many  desolate 
homes  has  it  cheered  by  its  consolations !  How  have  its 
peaceful  and  gentle  influences  filled  the  land  with  plente- 
ousness  and  riches,  and  made  it  vocal  with  praise  and 
thanksgiving ! 

3.  It  has  pleased  the  benevolent  Author  of  our  existence 
to  set  in  boundless  profusion  before  us  the  necessary  ele- 
ments for  a  high  state  of  cultivation  and  enjoyment. 
Blessings  cluster  around  us  like  fruits  of  the  land  of  prom- 
ise ;  and  Science  unfolds  her  treasures,  and  invites  us  to 
partake,  literally  without  money  and  without  price.  The 
propensities  of  our  nature,  as  well  as  the  philosophy  of  our 
being,  serve  to  remind  us  that  man  was  formed  for  care 
and  labor,  the  acquisition  and  enjoyment  of  property,  for 
society  and  government,  to  wrestle  with  the  elements 
around  him ;  and  that,  by  an  active  exercise  of  his  powers 
and  faculties  alone,  can  he  answer  the  ends  of  his  creation, 
or  exhibit  his  exalted  attributes. 

4.  His  daily  wants,  in  all  conditions  of  life,  prompt  him 
to  exertion ;   and  the  spirit  of  acquisition,  so  deeply  im- 


TIN  ION  FIFTH  READER.  365 

planted  in  the  human  breast, — that "  ruHng  passion  strong 
in  death,"  so  universally  difFused  through  the  whole  family 
of  man,  —  is  the  parent  of  that  laudable  enterprise  which 
has  caused  the  wilderness  to  bud  and  blossom  like  the  rose, 
planted  domestic  enjoyments  in  the  lair  of  the  beast  of 
prey,  and  transformed  the  earth  from  an  uncultivated  wild 
into  one  vast  store-house  of  subsistence  and  enjoyment. 

5.  What  can  be  more  acceptable  to  the  patriot  or  the 
philanthropist  than  to  behold  the  great  mass  of  mankind 
raised  above  the  degrading  influences  of  tyranny  and  indo- 
lence to  the  rational  enjoyment  of  the  bounties  of  their 
Creator ;  to  see,  in  the  productions  of  man's  magic  powers, 
the  cultivated  country,  the  fragrant  meadow,  the  waving 
harvest,  the  smiling  garden,  and  the  tasteful  dwelling,  and 
himself,  chastened  by  the  precepts  of  religion,  and  elevated 
by  the  refinements  of  science,  partaking  of  the  fruits  of 
his  own  industry,  with  proud  consciousness  that  he  eats  not 
the  bread  of  idleness  or  fraud ;  that  his  gains  are  not  met 
with  the  tears  of  misfortune,  nor  wrung  from  his  fellow  by 
the  devices  of  avarice  or  extortion  ;  his  joys  hightened,  his 
sorrows  alleviated,  and  his  heart  rectified  by  the  cheering 
voice  and  heaven-born  influences  of  woman  ? 

6.  Well  may  he  sit  down  under  his  own  vine  and  fig- 
tree  without  fear  of  molestation,  and  his  nightly  repose  be 
more  quiet  than  that  of  the  stately  monarch  of  the  East 
upon  his  down  of  cygnets,  or  the  voluptuous  Sybarite-  upon 
his  bed  of  roses.  And  while  he  and  all  his  dwellings  of 
care  and  toil  are  borne  onward  with  the  circling  spheres, 
and  the  spangled  heavens  around  him,  in  their  infinite 
depths,  invite  his  thoughts  to  the  contemplation  of  the 
Creator's  handiwork ;  still,  in  all  the  worlds  of  philosophy 
and  intellect,  he  must  he  a  worker.  He  is  nothing,  can  be 
nothing,  can  achieve  nothing,  without  labor. 


366  SANDEKS*  tJNION   SERIES. 


LESSOK    CXIY. 

'  A  pol'  lo.     See  note,  page  56. 

*La  oc'o  on,  a  priest  of  Apollo,  who,  as  Yirgil  describes,  was,  with  his 

two  sons,  crushed  in  the  folds  of  two  enormous  serpents,  on  account 

of  an  affront  offered  to  Minerva. 

THE  AVORK   OF  ELOQUENCE. 

ORVILLE  DEWEY. 

niHE  LABORS  requisite  to  form  the  public  speaker  are  by 
JL  no  means  duly  appreciated.  An  absurd  idea  prevails 
among  our  scholars,  that  the  finest  productions  of  the  mind 
are  the  fruits  of  hasty  impulse,  the  unfoldings  of  a  sudden 
thouo-ht,  the  brief  visitations  of  a  fortunate  hour  or  evenino^, 
the  flashings  of  intuition,  or  the  gleamings  of  fancy.  Gen- 
ius is  often  compared  to  lightning  from  the  cloud,  or  the 
sudden  bursting  out  of  a  secret  fountain ;  and  eloquence 
is  regarded  as  if  it  were  a  kind  of  inspiration. 

2.  When  a  man  has  made  a  happy  effort,  he  is  next 
possessed  with  an  absurd  ambition  to  have  it  thought  that 
it  cost  him  nothing.  He  will  say,  perhaps,  that  it  was  a 
three-hours'  work.  Now,  it  is  not  enough  to  maintain  that 
nothing  could  be  more  injurious  to  our  youth  than  this 
way  of  thinking ;  for  the  truth  is,  that  nothing  can  be 
more  false.  The  mistake  lies,  in  confounding,  with  the 
mere  arrang-ement  of  thoughts,  or  the  manual  labor  of 
putting  them  on  paper,  the  long  previous  jfreparation  of 
mind,  the  settled  habits  of  thought.  It  has  taken  but 
three  hours,  perhaps,  to  compose  an  admirable  piece  of 
poetry,  or  a  fine  speech  ;  but  the  reflections  of  three  years, 
or  of  thirty,  may  have  been  tending  to  that  result. 

3.  To  give  the  noblest  thoughts  the  noblest  expression ; 
to  stand  up  in  the  pure  light  of  reason,  or  to  create  a  new 
atmosphere X  as  it  were,  for  intellectual  vision ;  to  put  on 


UNION  FIFTH  IlEADEK.  367 

nil  die  glories  of  imagination  as  a  garment ;  to  penetrate 
the  soul,  and  to  make  men  feel  as  if  they  were  themselves 
new  creatures,  to  make  them  conscious  of  new  powers  and 
a  new  being ;  to  exercise,  in  the  loftiest  measure,  the  only 
glorious  and  godlike  sway,  —  that  over  willing  minds  ;  to 
fill  the  ear,  the  eye,  the  inmost  soul,  with  sounds,  and 
images,  and  holy  visions  of  beauty  and  grandeur ;  to  make 
truth  and  justice,  to  make  wisdom  and  virtue  and  religion, 
more  lovely  and  majestic  tilings  than  men  had  ever  thought 
them  before  ;  to  delight  as  well  as  to  convince  ;  to  chann, 
to  fascinate,  to  win,  to  arouse,  to  calm,  to  terrify,  to  over- 
whelm,—  this  is  the  work  of  eloquence;  and  it  is  a  glorious 
work. 

4.  The  great  object  of  all  the  liberal  arts  is  to  exhibit 
the  mind  ;  to  exhibit  character,  thought,  feeling,  in  their 
various  aspects.  In  this  consists  all ,  their  power  and  sub- 
limity. For  this,  the  painter  spreads  upon  the  dull  canvas 
the  breathing  forms  of  life  ;  the  sculptor  causes  the  marble 
to  speak  ;  the  architect  models  the  fair  and  majestic  stinict- 
ure,  with  sublimity  enthroned  in  its  dome,  with  beauty 
shaped  in  its  columns,  and  glory  written  upon  its  walls ; 
and  the  poet  builds  his  lofty  rhyme  ;  and  the  eloquent  in 
music,  orders  his  movement  and  combination  of  sweet 
sounds.  But,  of  this  mind,  the  human  fi-ame  is  the  ap- 
pointed instrument.  It  was  designed  for  this  end.  For  it 
could  have  answered  all  the  purposes  of  physical  existence, 
without  any  of  its  present  grace  and  beauty.  It  was  made 
with  no  more  obvious  intent  than  to  be  the  expression  of 
mind,  the  organ  of  the  soul,  the  vehicle  of  thought. 

5.  And  when  all  its  powers  are  put  in  requisition  for 
this  purpose,  —  the  voice,  with  all  its  thrilling  tones  ;  the 
eye,  "  through  which,  as  a  window,  the  soul  darts  forth  its 
light ;  "  the  lips,  on  wliich  "  grace  is  poured ;  "  the  whole 


868  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

glowing  countenance,  the  whole  breathing  frame,  which,  in  i 
their  ordinary  forms,  can  express  more  than  the  majesty  of 
an  Apollo,^  more  than  the  agony  of  a  Laocoon ;  ^  when 
every  motion  speaks,  every  hneament  is  more  than  the 
written  line  of  genius,  every  muscle  swells  with  the  inspira- 
tion of  high  thoughts,  every  nerve  is  swayed  to  the  mov- 
ings  of  some  mighty  theme, — what  instrument  of  music, 
what  glories  of  the  canvas,  can  equal  it  ? 

6.  Elo(|uence  is  the  combination  of  all  arts^  and  it  excels 
them  all  in  their  separate  powers.  Nor  is  it  confined  to 
the  mere  gratification  of  taste.  Tlic  great  and  ultimate 
object  of  social  existence  is  for  man  to  act  on  man ;  and 
eloquence  is  the  grandest  medium  of  this  action.  It  is  not 
only  the  highest  perfection  of  a  human  being,  (for  "  the 
orator  must  be  a  good  man^'')  but  it  is  that  perfection  in 
act.  It  is  sublimity,  beauty,  genius,  power,  in  their  most 
glorious  exercise. 


LESSON    CXV. 
THE    VOICE    AND    THE    PEN. 

D.  F.  MCCARTHY. 

1.  /^H  !  the  orator's  Voice  is  a  mighty  power 
\J  As  it  echoes  from  shore  to  shore  ; 
And  the  fearless  Pen  has  more  sway  o'er  men 

Than  the  murderous  cannon's  roar. 
What  bursts  the  chain  far  o'er  the  main. 

And  brightens  the  captive's  den  ? 
'Tis  the  fearless  Voice  and  the  Pen  of  power,- 
(/.)     Hurrah  for  the  Voice  and  Pen  I 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  369 

The  tyrant  knaves  who  deny  our  rights, 

And  the  cowards  who  blanch  with  fear, 
Exclaim  with  glee,  "  No  arms  have  ye, 

Nor  cannon,  nor  sword,  nor  spear! 
Your  hills  are  ours ;  with  our  forts  and  towers 

We  are  master*  of  mount  and  glen." 
Tyrants,  beware  !  for  the  arms  we  bear 

Are  the  Voice  and  the  fearless  Pen. 


Though  your  horsemen  stand  with  their  bridles  in 
hand, 

And  your  sentinels  walk  around. 
Though  your  matches  flare  in  the  midnight  air, 

And  your  brazen  trumpets  sound,  — 
Oh  !  the  orator's  tongue  shall  be  heard  among 

These  listenino;  Avarrior  men  ; 
And  they'll  quickly  say,  "  Why  should  we  slay 

Our  friends  of  the  Voice  and  Pen  ?  " 


4.  When  the  Lord  created  the  earth  and  sea, 

The  stars  and  the  glorious  sun. 
The  Godhead  spoke^  and  the  universe  woke, 

And  the  mighty  work  was  done  ! 
Let  a  word  be  flung  from  the  orator's  tongue. 

Or  a  drop  from  the  fearless  Pen, 
And  the  chains  accursed  asunder  burst, 

That  fettered  the  minds  of  men ! 

5.  Oh  !  these  are  the  swords  with  which  we  fight^, 

The  arms  in  which  we  trust ; 
Which  no  tyrant  hand  will  dare  to  brand. 
Which  time  can  not  dim  or  rust  1 
24 


370  SANDEES'  UNION  SERIES. 

When  these  we  bore,  we  triumphed  before, — 
With  these  we'll  triumph  again  ; 

And  the  world  will  say,  "  No  power  can  stay 
The  Voice  and  the  fearless  Pen !  " 


'B 


LESSON    CXYI. 
THE  BURIAL   OF  MOSES. 

ANON. 

Y  Nebo's  lonely  mountain, 
On  this  side  Jordan's  wave, 
In  a  vale  in  the  land  of  Moab, 

There  lies  a  lonely  grave ; 
And  no  man  dug  that  sepulcher, 

And  no  man  saw  it  e'er ; 
For  the  "  Sons  of  God  "  upturned  the  sod. 
And  laid  the  dead  man  there. 

2.  That  was  the  grandest  funeral 

That  ever  passed  on  earth ; 
But  no  man  heard  the  tramping, 

Or  saw  the  train  go  forth. 
Noiselessly  as  the  daylight 

Comes  when  the  night  is  done. 
And  the  crimson  streak  on  ocean's  cheek 

Grows  into  the  blazing  sun ; 

8.  Noiselessly  as  the  Spring-time 
Her  crown  of  verdure  weaves, 
And  all  the  trees  on  all  the  hills 
Open  their  thousand  leaves ; 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  371 

So,  without  sound  of  music, 

Or  voice  of  them  that  wept. 
Silently  down  from  the  mountain's  crown 

The  great  procession  swept. 


Perchance  the  bald  old  eagle, 

On  gray  Beth-peor's  hight, 
Out  of  his  rocky  aerie, 

Looked  on  the  wondrous  sight ; 
Perchance  the  hon  stalking 

Still  shuns  that  hallowed  spot ; 
For  boast  and  bird  have  seen  and  heard 

That  which  man  knoweth  not. 


But  when  the  warrior  dieth, 

His  comrades  in  the  war, 
With  arms  reversed,  and  muffled  drum, 

Follow  the  funeral-car :' 
They  show  the  banners  taken, 

They  tell  the  battles  won, 
And  after  him  lead  his  masterless  steed, 

While  peals  the  minute-gun. 

Amid  the  noblest  of  the  land 

Men  lay  the  sage  to  rest, 
And  give  the  bard  an  honored  place, 

With  costly  marble  dressed, 
In  the  great  minster  transept. 

Where  lights  like  glories  fall ; 
And  the  sweet  choir  sings,  and  the  organ  rings 

Along  the  emblazoned  wall. 


372  SANDERS'  UNION   SEKlEa 

7.   This  was  the  bravest  warrior 

That  ever  buckled  sword, 
This  the  most  gifted  poet 

That  ever  breathed  a  word  ; 
And  never  earth's  philosopher 

Traced  with  his  golden  pen, 
On  the  deathless  page,  truths  half  as 

As  he  wrote  down  for  men. 


8.  And  had  he  not  high  honor  ?  — 

The  hill-side  for  his  pall ; 
To  lie  in  state  while  angels  wait, 

With  stars  for  tapers  tall ; 
And  the  dark  rock-pines,  like  tossing  plumes, 

Over  his  bier  to  wave ; 
And  God's  own  hand,  in  that  lonely  land, 

To  lay  him  in  the  gi'ave. 

9.  O  lonely  tomb  in  Moab's  land  I 

O  dark  Beth-peor  hill ! 
Speak  to  these  curious  hearts  of  ours, 

And  teach  them  to  be  still. 
God  hath  His  mysteries  of  grace, 

Ways  that  we  can  not  tell ; 
And  hides  them  deep,  like  the  secret  sleep 

Of  him  He  loved  so  well. 


LESSON   CXVIL 

'  Di'  VE9  is  a  Latin  word,  meaning  rich.  It  is  used  as  a  name,  and  applied 
to  the  rich  man  referred  to  in  the  1 6th  chapter  of  Luke. 

"  Tyhe,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  cities  of  antiquity,  was,  for  a  long  time, 
considered  the  emporium  of  commerce.     It  was  in  its  most  flourishing 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  373 

state  about  500  years  before  Christ.  It  was  situated  on  an  island  near 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  whicli  was  joined  by  Alex- 
aader  to  the  main  land  by  a  mole,  or  mound,  by  means  of  which  he 
took  the  city  after  a  siege  of  seven  months.  It  was  surrounded  by  a ' 
wall  150  feet  high,  and  of  proportionate  width.  Its  palaces  are  now 
supplanted  by  miserable  hovels,  though  relics  of  its  ancient  splendor 
are  everywhere  still  seen,  and  the  poor  fisherman  now  inhabits  thoso 
cellars  where  were  once  stored  the  treasures  of  the  world. 

*  E'  DOM,  or  I  DU  me'  a,  is  a  country  including  the  south  of  Palestine. 

*  Mu  Ez'ziN,  in  Mohammedan  countries,  is  the  public  crier  who  announces 

the  hours  of  prayer  from  the  minaret.    Five  prayers  are  repeated  daily. 
'  Kle'  ber  was  a  French  general,  distinguished  not  less  for  his  humanity 
and  integrity  than  for  his  courage,  activity,  and  coolness. 

*  Mu  rat'  (Mil  ra')  was  a  French  general,  distinguished  more  for  his  daring 

courage  and  impetuosity  than  for  his  sagacity,  and  strength  of  mind. 

MOUNT    TABOR. 

J.  T.  HEADLEY. 

WHAT  strange  contrasts  this  earth  of  ours  presents ! 
Noonday  and  midnight  are  not  more  opposite  than 
the  scenes  that  are  constantly  passing  before  our  eyes. 
Truth  and  falsehood  walk  side  by  side  through  our  streets, 
and  vice  and  virtue  meet  and  pass  every  hour  of  the  day. 
The  hut  of  the  starving  stands  in  the  shadow  of  the  palace 
of  the  wealthy,  and  the  carriage  of  Dives  ^  every  day 
throws  the  dust  of  its  glittering  wheels  over  the  tattered 
garments  of  Lazarus. 

2.  Health  and  sickness  lie  down  in  the  same  apartment; 
joy  and  grief  look  out  of  the  same  window ;  and  hope  and 
despair  dwell  under  the  same  roof.  The  cry  of  the  infant, 
and  the  groan  of  the  dying,  rise  together  from  the  same 
dwelling ;  the  funeral  procession  treads  close  on  the  heels 
of  the  bridal  party;  and  the  tones  of  the  lute  and  viol 
have  scarcely  died  away,  before  the  requiem  for  the  dead 
comes  swelling  after.  Oh !  the  beautiful  and  deformed, 
the  pure  and  corrupt,  joy  and  sorrow,  ecstasies  and  ago- 


374  SANDEKS'  UNION  SERIES. 

nies,  life  and  death,   are  strangely  blended  on   this  our 
restless  planet. 

3.  What  different  events  ha\^e  transpired  on  the  same 
spot!  Where  the  smoke  of  the  Indian's  wigwam  arose, 
and  the  stealthy  tread  of  the  wolf  and  panther  was  heard 
over  the  autumn  leaves  at  twilight,  the  population  of  New 
York  now  surges  along.  Where  once  Tyre,'-  the  queen 
of  the  sea,  stood,  fishermen  are  spreading  their  nets  on  the 
desolate  rocks,  and  the  bright  waves  are  rolling  over  its 
marble  columns.  In  the  empty  apartments  of  Edom,^  the 
fox  makes  his  den ;  and  the  dust  of  the  desert  is  sifting  over 
the  forsaken  ruins  of  Palmyra. 

4.  The  owl  hoots  in  the  ancient  halls  of  kings,  and  the 
wind  of  the  summer  night  makes  sad  music  through  the 
rents  of  the  once-gorgeous  palaces.  The  Arab  spurs  his 
steed  along  the  streets  of  ancient  Jerusalem,  or  scornfully 
stands  and  curls  his  lip  at  the  pilgrim  pressing  wearily  to 
the  sepulcher  of  the  Savior.  The  muezzin's*  voice  rings 
over  the.  bones  of  the  prophets,  and  the  desert  wind  heaps 
the  dust  above  the  foundations  of  the  seven  churches  of 
Asia.  Oh,  how  good  and  evil,  light  and  darkness,  chase 
each  other  over  the  world  ! 

5.  Forty-seven  years  ago,  a  form  was  seen  standing  on 
Mount  Tabor,  with  which  the  world  has  since  become 
familiar.  It  was  a  bright  spring  morning  ;  and,  as  he  sat 
on  his  steed  in  the  clear  sunlight,  his  eye  rested  on  a  scene 
in  the  vale  below,  which  was  sublime  and  appaUing  enough 
to  quicken  the  pulsations  of  the  calmest  heart.  That  form 
was  Napoleon  Bonaparte  ;  and  the  scene  before  him, 
the  fierce  and  terrible  "  Battle  of  Mount  Tabor." 

6.  From  Nazareth,  where  the  Savior  once  trod,  Kle- 
BER^  had  marched  with  three  thousand  French  soldiers 
forth  into  the  plain ;  when,  lo  !  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Tabor, 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  375 

he  saw  the  whole  Turkish  army  drawn  up  in  order  of  battle. 
Fifteen  thousand  infantry,  and  twelve  thousand  splendid 
cavalry,  moved  down  in  majestic  strength  on  this  band  of 
three  thousand  French.  Kleber  had  scarcely  time  to 
throw  his  handful  of  men  into  squares,  with  the  cannon 
at  the  angles,  before  those  twelve  thousand  horse,  making 
the  earth  smoke  and  thunder  as  they  came,  burst  in  a 
headlong  gallop  upon  them. 

7.  But  round  those  steady  squares  rolled  a  fierce  de- 
Touring  fire,  emptying  the  saddles  of  those  wild  horsemen 
with  frightful  rapidity,  and  strewing  the  earth  with  the 
bodies  of  riders  and  steeds  together.  Again  and  again  did 
those  splendid  squadrons  wheel,  re-form,  and  charge  with 
deafening  shouts,  while  their  uplifted  and  flashing  cimeters 
gleamed  like  a  forest  of  steel  through  the  smoke  of  battle ; 
but  that  same  wasting  fire  received  them,  till  those  squares 
seemed  bound  by  a  girdle  of  flame,  so  rapid  and  constant 
were  the  discharo;es. 

8.  Before  their  certain  and  deadly  aim,  as  they  stood 
fighting  for  existence,  the  charging  squadrons  fell  so  fast, 
that  a  rampart  of  dead  bodies  was  soon  formed  around 
them.  Behind  this  embankment  of  dead  men  and  horses, 
this  band  of  warriors  stood  and  fought  for  six  dreadful 
hours,  and  was  still  steadily  thinning  the  ranks  of  the 
enemy,  when  Napoleon  debpu9hed  with  a  single  division 
on  Mount  Tabor,  and  turned  his  eye  below.  What  a 
scene  met  his  gaze  !  The  whole  plain  was  filled  with 
marching  columns,  and  charging  squadrons  of  wildly  gal- 
loping steeds,  while  the  thunder  of  cannon  and  fierce  rattle 
of  musketry,  amid  which  now  and  then  were  heard  the 
blast  of  thousands  of  trumpets  and  strains  of  martial  music, 
filled  the  air. 

9.  The  smoke  of  battle  was  rolling  fi.iriously  over  the 


376  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

hosts,  and  all  was  confusion  and  chaos  in  his  sight.  Amid 
the  twenty-seven  thousand  Turks  that  crowded  the  plain, 
and  enveloped  their  enemy  like  a  cloud,  and  amid  the 
incessant  discharge  of  artillery  and  musketry.  Napoleon 
could  tell  where  his  own  brave  troops  were  struggling, 
only  by  the  steady  simultaneous  volleys  which  showed 
how  discipline  was  contending  with  the  wild  valor  of  over- 
powering numbers.  The  constant  flashes  from  behind  that 
rampart  of  dead  bodies  were  like  spots  of  flame  on  the 
tumultuous  and  chaotic  field. 

10.  Napoleon  descended  from  Mount  Tabor  with  his 
little  band,  while  a  single  twelve-pounder,  fired  from  the 
hights,  told  the  wearied  Kleber  that  he  was  rushing  to 
the  rescue.  Then  for  the  first  time  he  took  the  offensive, 
and,  pouring  his  enthusiastic  followers  on  the  foe,  carried 
death  and  terror  over  the  field.  Thrown  into  confusion, 
and  trampled  under  foot,  that  mighty  army  rolled  turbu- 
lently  back  toward  the  Jordan,  where  Murat^  was  anx- 
iously waiting  to  mingle  in  the  fight.  Dashing  with  his 
cavalry  among  the  disordered  ranks,  he  sabered  them 
down  without  mercy,  and  raged  like  a  lion  amid  the  prey. 

11.  This  chivalric  and  romantic  warrior  declared  that 
the  remembrance  of  the  scenes  that  once  transpired  on 
Mount  Tabor,  and  on  these  thrice-consecrated  spots,  came 
to  him  in  the  hottest  of  the  fight,  and  nerved  him  with 
tenfold  courage.  As  the  sun  went  down  over  the  plains 
of  Palestine,  and  twilight  shed  its  dim  ray  over  the  rent, 
and  trodden,  and  dead-covered  field,  a  sulphurous  cloud 
hung  around  the  summit  of  Mount  Tabor.  The  smoke 
of  battle  had  settled  there  where  once  the  cloud  of  glory 
rested,  while  groans,  and  shrieks,  and  cries  rent  the  air. 
Nazareth,  Jordan,  and  Mount  Tabor !  what  spots  for  bat- 
tle-fields I 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  377 


LESSON    CXYIII. 

*  Es  DRA  e'  lon  is  a  plain  of  Palestine,  often  mentioned  in  sacred  history. 
It  has  been  from  the  earliest  history  often  the  scene  of  bloody  conflicts. 
It  is  situated  south  of  the  plain  of  Galilee. 

MOUNT    TABOR.  — Continued. 

J.  T.  HEADLEY. 

ROLL  back  eighteen  centuries,  and  again  view  that 
mount.  The  day  is  bright  and  beautiful,  as  on  tlie 
day  of  battle,  and  the  same  rich  Oriental  landscape  is 
smiling  in  the  same  sun.  There  is  Nazareth,  with  its 
busy  population,  —  the  same  Nazareth  from  which  Kleber 
marched  his  army ;  and  there  is  Jordan,  rolling  its  briglit 
waters  along,  —  the  same  Jordan  along  whose  banks 
charged  the  glittering  squadrons  of  Murat's  cavalry ;  and 
there  is  Mount  Tabor,  —  the  same  on  which  Bonaparte 
stood  with  his  cannon  ;  and  the  same  beautiful  plain  where 
rolled  the  smoke  of  battle,  and  struggled  thirty  thousand 
men  in  mortal  combat. 

2.  But  how  different  is  the  scene  that  is  passing  there  ! 
The  Son  of  God  stands  on  that  hight,  and  casts  his  eye 
over  the  quiet  valley,  through  which  Jordan  winds  its  sil- 
very current.  Three  friends  are  beside  Him.  They  have 
walked  together  up  the  toilsome  way;  and  now  they  stand, 
mere  specks  on  the  distant  summit.  Far  away  to  the 
north-west  shines  the  blue  Mediterranean ;  all  around 
is  the  great  plain  of  Esdraelon^  and  Galilee;  eastward 
the  Lake  of  Tiberias  dots  the  landscape  ;  while  Mount 
Carmel  lifts  its  naked  summit  in  the  distance. 

3.  But  the  glorious  landscape  at  their  feet  is  forgotten 
in  a  sublimer  scene  that  is  passing  before  them.  The  son 
of  Mary  —  the   carpenter  of  Nazareth  —  the   wanderer, 


378  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

with  whom  they  have  traveled  many  a  weary  league,  in 
all  the  intimacy  of  companions  and  friends,  begins  to 
change  before  their  eyes.  Over  his  garments  is  spreading 
a  strange  light,  steadily  brightening  into  intenser  beauty, 
till  that  form  glows  with  such  splendor,  that  it  seems  to 
waver  to  and  fro,  and  dissolve  in  the  still  radiance. 

4.  The  three  astonished  friends  gaze  on  it  in  speechless 
admiration,  then  turn  to  that  familiar  face.  But,  lo !  a 
greater  change  has  passed  over  it.  That  sad  and  solemn 
countenance  which  has  been  so  often  seen  stooping  over 
the  couch  of  the  dying,  entering  the  door  of  the  hut  of 
poverty,  passing  through  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  and 
pausing  by  the  weary  way-side,  —  ay,  bedewed  with  the 
tears  of  pity,  —  now  burns  like  the  sun  in  his  mid-day 
splendor.  Meekness  has  given  way  to  majesty ;  sadness,  to 
dazzling  glory ;  the  look  of  pity,  to  the  grandeur  of  a  God. 

5.  The  still  radiance  of  Heaven  sits  on  that  serene  brow, 
and  all  around  that  divine  form  flows  an  atmosphere  of 
strange  and  wondrous  beauty.  Heaven  has  poured  its 
brightness  over  that  consecrated  spot ;  and  on  the  beams 
of  hght  which  glitter  there,  Moses  and  Elias  have  de- 
scended, and,  wrapped  in  the  same  shining  vestments, 
stand  beside  him.  Wonder  follows  wonder,  for  those 
three  glittering  forms  are  talking  with  each  other ;  and 
amid  the  thrilling  accents  are  heard  the  words,  "  Mount 
Olivet,"  "  Calvary  !  "  —  "  the  agony  and  the  death  of  the 
crucifixion ! " 

6.  No  wonder  a  sudden  fear  came  over  Peter,  that  para- 
lyzed his  tongue,  and  crushed  him  to  the  earth,  when,  in 
the  midst  of  his  speech,  he  saw  a  cloud  descend  like  a  fall- 
ing star  from  heaven,  and,  bright  and  dazzling,  balance 
itself  over  those  forms  of  light,  while  from  its  bright  fold- 
ings came  a  voice,  saying,  — ''  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased  ;  hear  ye  Him !  " 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  379 

7.  How  long  the  vision  lasted,  we  can  not  tell ;  but  all 
that  night  did  Jesus,  with  his  friends,  stay  on  that  lonely 
mountain.  Of  the  conversation  that  passed  between  them 
there,  we  know  nothing ;  but  little  sleep,  we  imagine,  vis- 
ited their  eyes  that  night;  and  as  they  sat  on  the  high 
summit,"  and  watched  the  stars  as  they  rose  one  after 
another  above  the  horizon,  and  gazed  on  the  moon  as  she 
poured  her  light  over  the  dim  and  darkened  landscape, 
words  were  spoken  that  seemed  born  of  Heaven,  and 
truths  never  to  be  forgotten  were  uttered  in  the  ears  of  the 
subdued  and  reverent  discij)les. 

8.  Oh,  how  different  are  Heaven  and  earth  !  Can  there 
be  a  stronorer  contrast  than  the  Battle  and  Transfigura- 
TiON  of  Mount  Tabor  ?  One  shudders  to  think  of  Bona- 
parte and  the  Son  of  God  on  the  same  mountain,  —  one 
with  his  wasting  cannon  by  his  side,  and  the  other  with 
Moses  and  Elias  just  from  Heaven.  But  no  after  desecra- 
tion can  destroy  the  first  consecration  of  Mount  Tabor ; 
for,  surrounded  with  the  glory  of  Heaven,  and  honored 
with  the  wondrous  scene  of  the  Transfiguration,  it 
stands  a  sacred  mountain  on  the  earth. 


LESSON    CXIX. 
NATHAN   HALE. 

FRANCIS  M.  FINCH. 

Part  of  a  poem  delivered  in  1853  at  a  centennial  anniversary  of  the  Linonian 
Society,  Yale  College.     Nathan  Hale  was  one  of  the  early  members. 

1.  rpO  drum-beat,' and  heart-beat, 
X   A  soldier  marches  by  : 
There  is  color  in  his  cheek, 

There  is  courage  in  his  eye ; 
Yet  to  drum-beat,  and  heart-beat, 

In  a  moment  he  must  die. 


380  SANDEES'   UKION  SEEIE8. 

2.  By  starlight  and  moonlight 

He  seeks  the  Briton's  camp; 

He  hears  the  rustling  flag, 

And  the  armed  sentry's  tramp ; 

And  the  starlight  and  moonhght 
The  silent  wanderer's  lamp. 

8.  With  slow  tread,  and  still  tread, . 

He  scans  the  tented  line ; 
And  he  counts  the  battery-guns 

By  the  gaunt  and  shadowy  pine ; 
And  his  slow  tread,  and  still  tread, 

Gives  out  no  warning  sign. 

4.  A  sharp  clang,  a  stetl  clang, 
And  terror  in  the  sound  ; 

For  the  sentry,  eagle-eyed, 

In  the  camp  a  spy  hath  found ; 

With  a  sharp  clang,  a  steel  clang, 
The  patriot  is  bound. 

6.  With  calm  brow,  steady  brow. 
He  listens  to  his  doom  : 

In  his  look  there  is  no  fear, 
Nor  a  shadow-trace  of  gloom  ; 

But  with  calm  brow,  steady  brow, 
He  robes  him  for  the  tomb. 

6.  In  the  long  night,  the  still  night. 
He  kneels  upon  -the  sod  ; 
And  his  brutal  guards  Avithhold 

E'en  the  solemn  word  of  God ; 
In  the  long  night,  the  still  night, 
He  "  passeth  under  the  rod."* 
*  Ezekiel,  20th  chapter,  37th  verse. 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  381 

7.  'Neath  the  blue  morn,  the  sunny  morn, 

He  dies  upon  the  tree  ; 
And  he  mourns  that  he  can  lose 

But  one  life  for  Liberty ; 
In  the  blue  morn,  the  sunny  mom, 

His  spirit-wings  are  free. 

8.  His  last  words,  his  message-words,  ' 

They  burn,  lest  friendly  eye 
Should  read  how  proud  and  calm 

A  patriot  could  die  ; 
With  his  last  words,  his  message-words, 

A  soldier's  battle-cry. 

9.  From  fame-leaf,  and  angel-leaf. 

From  monument  and  urn. 
The  sad  of  Earth,  the  glad  of  Heaven, 

His  tragic  fate  shfill  learn  ; 
And  on  fame-leaf  and  angel-leaf 

The  name  of  Hale  shall  burn. 


LESSON    CXX. 

*  Col  OS  se'  um.     See  note,  page  333. 

^  Par'  the  non,  a  celebrated  temple  of  Minerva  at  Athens,  in  Greece. 

LOSS    OF   THE   UNION  IRREPARABLE. 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

From  a  eulogy  on  Washington,  delivered  in  the  city  of  Washington,  in 
honor  of  his  centennial  birthday,  Feb.  22,  1832. 

WASHINGTON,  therefore,  could  regard,  and  did  re^ 
gard,  nothing  as  of  paramount  political  interest,  but 
the  integrity  of  the  Union  itself.  With  a  'hnited  govern- 
ment, well  administered,  he  saw  we  had  nothing  to  fear ; 


382  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

and,  without  it,  notliing  to  hope.  The  sentiment  is  just, 
and  its  momentous  truth  should  solemnly  impress  the 
whole  country. 

2.  If  we  might  regard  our  Country  as  personated  in  the 
spirit  of  Washington,  if  we  miglit  consider  him  as  repre- 
senting her  in  her  past  renown,  her  present  prosperity, 
and  her  future  career,  and  as,  in  that  character,  demanding 
of  us  all  to  account  for  our  conduct  as  political  men  or  as 
private  citizens,  how  should  he  answer  him  who  has  vent- 
ured to  talk  of  disunion  and  dismemberment  ?  Or  how 
should  he  answer  him  who  dwells  perpetually  on  local 
interests,  and  fans  every  kindling  flame  of  local  prejudice  ? 
How  should  he  answer  him  who  would  array  State  against 
State,  interest  against  interest,  and  party  against  party, 
careless  of  the  continuance  of  that  unity  of  govermnent 
which  constitutes  us  one  people  ? 

3.  Gentlemen,  the  political  prosperity* which  this  coun- 
try has  attained,  and  which  it  now  enjoys,  it  has  acquired 
mainly  through  the  instrumentality  of  the  present  govern- 
ment. While  this  agent  continues,  the  capacity  of  attain- 
ing to  still  higher  degrees  of  prosperity  exists  also.  We 
have,  while  this  lasts,  a  political  life  capable  of  beneficial 
exertion,  with  power  to  resist  or  overcome  misfortunes,  to 
sustain  us  against  the  ordinarv  accidents  of  human  affairs, 
and  to  promote,  by  active  efforfs,  every  public  interest. 

4.  But  dismemberment  strikes  at  the  very  being  ivhich  pre- 
serves these  faculties.  It  would  lay  its  rude  and  ruthless 
hand  on  this  great  agent  itself.  It  would  sweep  away,  not 
only  what  we  possess,  but  all  power  of  regaining  lost  or 
acquiring  new  possessions.  It  would  leave  the  country, 
not  only  bereft  of  its  prosperity  and  happiness,  but  without 
limbs,  or  orgalis,  or  faculties,  by  which  to  exert  itself  here- 
after in  the  pursuit  of  that  prosperity  and  happiness. 


UNION  FIFTH  READEE.  383 

5.  Other  misfortunes  may  be  borne,  or  their  effects  over- 
come. If  disastrous  war  sliould  sweep  our  commerce  from 
the  ocean,  another  generation  may  renew  it ;  if  it  exliaust 
our  treasury,  future  industry  may  replenish  it ;  if  it  deso- 
late and  lay  waste  our  fields,  still,  under  a  new  cultivation, 
they  will  grow  green  again,  and  ripen  to  future  harvests. 
It  were  but  a  trifle  even,  if  the  walls  of  yonder  Capitol 
w^ere  to  crumble,  if  its  lofty  pillars  should  fall,  and  its  gor- 
geous decorations  be  all  covered  by  the  dust  of  the  valley. 
All  these  mio-ht  be  rebuilt.  But  who  shall  reconstruct 
the  fabric  of  demolished  government  ?  Who  shall  rear  again 
the  well-proportioned  colunnis  of  constitutional  liberty  ? 
Who  shall  frame  to£i;ether  the  skillful  architecture  which 
unites  national  sovereignty  with  state  rights,  individual 
security,  and  public  prosperity  ? 

6.  No,  gentlemen :  if  these  columns  fall,  they  will  be 
raised  not  again.  Like  the  Colosseum,^  and  the  Parthe- 
non,^ they  will  be  destined  to  a  mournful,  a  melancholy 
immortality.  Bitterer  tears,  however,  will  flow  over  them 
than  were  ever  shed  over  the  monuments  of  Roman  or 
Grecian  art ;  for  they  will  be  the  remnants  of  a  more  glo- 
rious edifice  than  Greece  or  Rome  ever  saw,  —  the  edifice 
of  constitutional  American  liberty. 

7.  But,  gentlemen,  let  us  hope  for  better  things.  Let 
us  trust  in  that  gracious  Being  who  has  hitherto  held  our 
country  as  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand.  Let  us  trust  to  the 
virtue  and  the  intelligence  of  the  people,  and.  to  the  effi- 
cacy of  religious  obligation.  Let  us  trust  to  the  influence 
of  Washington's  example.  Let  us  hope  that  that  fear  of 
Heaven  which  expels  all  other  fear,  and  tiiat  regard  to 
duty  which  transcends  all  other  regard,  may  influence  pub- 
lic men  and  private  citizens,  and  lead  ou^'  country  still 
onward  in  her  happy  career. 


384  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

8.  Full  of  these  gratifying  anticipations  and  hopes,  let 
us  look  forward  to  the  end  of  that  century  which  is  now 
commenced.  A  hundred  years  hence,  other  disciples  of 
Washington  will  celebrate  his  birth,  with  no  less  of  sincere 
admiration  than  we  now  commemorate  it.  When  they 
shall  meet,  as  we  now  meet,  to  do  themselves  and  him  that 
honor,  so  surely  as  they  shall  see  the  blue  summits  of  his 
native  mountains  rise  in  the  horizon,  so  surely  as  they  shall 
behold  the  river  on  whose  banks  he  lived,  and  on  whose 
banks  he  rests,  still  flowing  on  toward  the  sea,  so  surely 
may  they  see,  as  we  now  see,  the  flag  of  the  Union  floating 
on  the  top  of  the  Capitol ;  and  then,  as  now,  may  the  sun 
in  his  course  visit  no  land  more  free,  more  happy,  more 
lovely,  than  this  our  own  country ! 


LESSON    CXXI. 

*  Per  I  he' LI  on,  (peri,  near;  helion,  the  sun;)  the  point  of  a  planet's 

orbit  nearest  to  the  sun. 

*  Ple'  IAD,  one  of  the  Pleiades,  a  group  of  seven  small  stars  situated  in  the 

neck  of  the  constellation  Taurus,  regarded  by  Madler  as  the  central 
group  of  the  system  of  the  Milky  Way. 
'  South' ERN  Cross.     See  note,  page  138. 

*  Pole-Star.     See  note,  page  138. 

*  Di  A  pa'  son,  (dia,  through;  pason,  all;)  all  through  the  octave,  or  inter- 

val which  includes  all  the  tones  of  the  diatonic  scale ;  the  entire  com- 
pass of  tones. 

STARS  IN  MY   COUNTRY'S   SKY. 

MRS.  L.  H.  SIGOURNEY. 

1.     A  RE  ye  all  there,  are  ye  all  there, 
IX     Stars  of  my  country's  sky? 
Are  ye  all  there,  are  ye  all  there, 
In  your  shining  homes  on  high  ? 


UKION  FIFTH  READER,  385 

"  Count  us,  count  us !  "  was  their  answer, 

As  tliey  dazzled  on  my  view, 
In  glorious  perihelion,^ 

Aniid  their  field  of  blue. 


2.  I  can  not  count  ye  rightly ; 

There's  a  cloud  with  sable  rim  ; 
I  can  not  make  your  number  out, 

For  my  eyes  with  tears  are  dim. 
Oh  I  bright  and  blessed  angel 

On  white  wino;  floating  bv, 
Help  me  to  count,  and  not  to  miss 

One  star  in  my  country's  sky ! 

3.  Then  the  angel  touched  mine  eyelids, 

And  touched  the  frowning  cloud ; 
And  its  sable  rim  departed, 

And  it  fled  with  murky  shroud. 
There  was  no  missing  Pleiad  ^ 

'Mid  all  that  sister  race  ; 
The  Southern  Cross  ^  gleamed  radiant  forth. 

And  the  Pole-star*  kept  its  place. 

4.  Then  I  knew  it  was  the  angel 

Who  woke  the  hymning  strain. 
That,  at  our  Redeemer's  birth, 

Pealed  out  o'er  Bethlehem's  plain : 
And  still  its  heavenly  key-tone 

My  listening  country  held  ; 
For  all  her  constellated  stars 

The  diapason^  swelled. 
17 


386  SAl^DERS'   UNION   SERIES. 


LESSOI^    CXXII. 
GOD    BLESS    OUR    STARS. 

B.   F.   TAYLOR, 

OD  bless  our  stars  forever !  " 
Thus  the  angels  sang  sublime, 
When  round  God's  forges  fluttered  fast 

The  sparks  of  starry  time ; 
"When  they  fanned  them  with  their  pinions. 

Till  they  kindled  into  day, 

And  revealed  Creation's  bosom, 

Where  the  infant  Eden  lay. 


'•"G 


2.  "  God  bless  our  stars  forever !  " 

Thus  they  sang,  the  seers  of  old, 
When  they  beckoned  to  the  Morning, 

Through  the  future's  misty  fold,  — 
When  they  waved  the  wand  of  wonder, 

When  they  breathed  the  magic  word, 
And  the  pulses'  golden  glimmer 

Showed  the  wakino;  granite  heard. 


'to  to' 


3.  "  God  bless  our  stars  forever ! '' 

'Tis  the  burden  of  the  song 
Where  the  sail  through  hollow  midnight 

Is  flickering  along ; 
When  a  ribbon  of  blue  heaven 

Is  a-gleaming  through  the  clouds, 
With  a  star  or  two  upon  it, 

For  the  sailor  in  the  shrouds. 

4.  "  God  bless  our  stars  forever !  ** 

It  is  Liberty's  refrain, 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  387 

From  the  snows  of  wild  Nevada 

To  the  sounding  woods  of  Maine  r 
Where  the  green  Multno'mah  wanders } 

Where  the  Alabama  rests  ; 
Where  the  thunder  shakes  his  turban 

Over  Alleghany's  crests ; 

5.  Where  the  mountams  of  New  England 

Mock  Atlantic's  stormy  main  ; 
Where  God's  palm  imprints  the  prairie 

With  the  type  of  heaven  again ; 
Where  the  mirrored  morn  is  dawning, 

Link  to  link,  our  lakes  along ; 
And  Sacramento's  Golden  Gate 

Swinging  open  to  the  song, — 

6.  There  and  there,  "  Our  stars  forever ! '' 

How  it  echoes !     How  it  thrills  ! 
Blot  that  banner  ?     AVhy,  they  bore  it 

When  no  sunset  bathed  tlie  hills. 
Now  over  Bunker  see  it  billow, 

Now  at  Bennington  it  waves, 
Ticonderoga  swells  beneath. 

And  Saratoga's  graves ! 

7.  Oh  !  long  ago  at  Lexington, 

And  above  those  minute-men, 
The  "  Old  Thirteen  ''  were  blazing  brig]it,  — 

There  were  onl?/  thirteen  then  ! 
God's  own  stars  are  gleaming  through  it, — 

Stars  not  woven  in  its  thread ; 
Unfurl  it,  and  that  flag  Avill  glitter 

With  the  lieaven  overhead. 


S88  SAKDERS'   UNION   SERIES. 

8.  Oh  !  it  waved  above  the  Pilgrims, 

On  the  pinions  of  the  prayer ; 
Oh !  it  billowed  o'er  the  battle, 

On  the  surges  of  the  air ; 
Oh !  the  stars  have  risen  in  it, 

Till  the  eagle  waits  the  sun, 
And  Freedom  from  her  mountain-watch 

Has  counted  "  thirty-one."* 

9.  When  the  weary  Years  are  halting 

In  the  mighty  march  of  Time, 
And  no  new  ones  throng  the  threshold 

Of  its  corridors  sublime, — 
When  the  clarion  call,  ''  Close  up!  " 

Rings  along  the  line  no  more,  — 
Then  adieu,  thou  blessed  banner, 

Then  adieu,  and  not  before ! 


LESSOIvT    CXXIII. 

^  Corn  wal'  lis,  Chaples,  was  born  Dec.  31,  1738.  He  entered  the  Brit- 
ish army  early,  and  obtained  deserved  promotion  and  credit  in  tlie  last 
campaign  of  the  Seven  -  Years'  War.  He  served  actively  and  honorably  as 
major-general  under  Howe  and  Clinton,  in  the  first  year  of  the  Ameri- 
can War  ;  and,  in  1780,  he  held  an  independent  command.  He  gained 
several  victories;  but  was  at  last  shut  up  and  besieged  in  Yorklown, 
where  he  was  obliged  to  surrender  himself  and  his  army,  after  an  obsti- 
nate and  gallant  defense,  on  the  19th  of  October,  1781.  In  1805,  he 
was  a  second  time  made  Governor  of  India;  but  the  old  warrior's 
strength  failed  him,  and  he  died  at  Ghazepore,  Oct.  5,  1 805. 

*Knox,  IIknry,  a  major-general  in  the  American  army,  was  born  in  Boston, 
July  25,  1750.  He  served  as  a  volunteer  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill. 
In  1776,  he  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  artillery-corps,  with 
the  rank  of  brigadier-general.  He  distinguished  himself  at  Trenton^ 
Princeton,  German  town,  and  Monmouth.     He  died  in  1806. 

*  There  are  now  thirty-six  States. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEK.  38J 

WASHINGTON'S  JOURNEY  TO  HIS  INAUGURATION. 

W.  IRVING. 

ON"  the  fourteenth  of  April,  1789,  he  received  a  lettei 
from  tlie  President  of  the  Congress,  duly  notifying  him 
of  his  election  ;  and  he  prepared  to  set  out  immediately 
for  New  York,  the  seat  of  government.  An  entry  in  his 
diary,  dated  the  16th,  says,  —  "About  ten  o'clock,  I  bade 
adieu  to  Mount  Vernon,  to  private  life,  and  to  domestic! 
felicity  ;  and,  with  a  mind  oppressed  with  more  anxious 
and  painful  sensations  than  I  have  words  to  express,  set 
out  with  the  best  disposition  to  render  service  to  my  coun- 
try in  obedience  to  its  call,  but  with  less  hope  of  answering 
its  expectations." 

2.  At  the  first  stage  of  his  journey,  a  trial  of  his  tender- 
est  feelings  awaited  him  at  a  public  dinner  given  him  in 
Alexandria  by  his  neighbors  and  personal  friends,  among 
whom  he  had  lived  in  the  constant  interchange  of  kind 
offices,  and  who  were  aw^are  of  the  practical  beneficence 
of  his  private  character.  A  deep  feeling  of  regret  mingled 
with  their  festivity.  The  mayor,  who  presided,  and  spoke 
the  sentiments  of  the  people  of  Alexandria,  deplored  in  his 
departure  the  loss  of  the  first  and  best  of  their  citizens,  the 
ornament  of  the  aged,  the  model  of  the  young,  the  im- 
prover of  their  agriculture,  the  friend  of  their  commerce, 
the  benefactor  of  their  poor ;  but  "  ^o,"  added  he,  "  and 
make  a  grateful  people  happy^  who  will  be  doubly  grate- 
ful when  they  contemplate  this  new  sacrifice  for  their 
interests." 

3.  Washington  was  too  deeply  affected  for  many  words 
in  reply.     ''  Just  after  having  bade  adieu  to  my  do 

MESTIC    CONNECTIONS,"    Said    he,   ''  THIS    TENDER    PROOF    OF 
YOUR     FRIENDSHIP      IS      BUT     TOO     WEIJ-     CALCUEATED     TO 


390  SANDEKS'  UNION   SEKIES. 

AWAKEN  STILL  FURTHER  MY  SENSIBILITY,  AND  INCREASE 
MY  REGRET  AT  PARTING  FROM  THE  ENJOYMENTS  OF  PRI- 
VATE   LIFE.     All   that    now   remains    for   me  is   to 

COMMIT  MYSELF  AND  YOU  TO  THE  CARE  OF  THAT  BE- 
NEFICENT Being,  who,  on  a  former  occasion,  hap- 
pily BROUGHT  US  TOGETHER  AFTER  A  LONG  AND  DIS- 
TRESSING    SEPARATION.        PeRHAPS     THE     SAME     GRACIOUS 

Providence  will  again  indulge  me.  But  words 
FAIL   ME.      Unutterable   sensations   must,    then,    be 

LEFT  TO  MORE  EXPRESSIVE  SILENCE,  WHILE,  FROM  AN 
ACHING  HEART,  I  BID  ALL  MY  AFFECTIONATE  FRIENDS 
AND    KIND    NEIGHBORS    FAREWELL  !  " 

4.  His  progress  to  tlie  seat  of  governmeiit  was  a  con- 
tinual ovation.  The  ringing  of  bells  and  roaring  of  can- 
nonry  proclaimed  his  course  through  the  country.  The 
old  and  young,  women  and  children,  thronged  the  high- 
ways to  bless  and  welcome  him.  Deputations  of  the  most 
respectable  inhabitants  from  the  principal  places  came 
forth  to  meet  and  escort  him.  Washington  had  hoped 
to  be  spared  all  military  parade,  but  found  it  was  not  to 
be  evaded.  Cavalry  had  assembled  from  the  surroundino; 
country  ;  a  superb  white  horse  was  led  out  for  Washington 
to  mount ;  arid  a  grand  procession  set  forward,  with  Gen.  St. 
Clair,  of  Revolutionary  notoriety,  at  its  head.  It  gathered 
numbers  as  it  advanced ;  passed  under  triumphal  arches 
in  twined  with  laurel,  and  entered  Philadelphia  amid  the 
shouts  of  the  multitude. 

5.  A  day  of  public  festivity  succeeded,  ended  by  a  dis- 
play of  fireworks.  Washington's  reply  to  the  congratula- 
tions of  the  mayor,  at  a  great  civic  banquet,  spoke  the 
genuine  feelings  of  his  modest  nature,  amid  these  testimo- 
nials of  a  world's  applause.  "  When  I  contemplate  the 
interposition  of  Providence,  as  it  was  visibly  manifested  in 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  391 

guiding  us  througli  the  Revolution,  in  preparing  us  for  the 
reception  of  the  general  government,  and  in  conciliating 
the  good  will  of  the  people  of  America  toward  one  another 
after  its  adoption,  I  feel  myself  oppressed  and  almost  over- 
whelmed with  a  sense  of  divine  munificence.  I  feel  that 
nothing  is  due  to  my  personal  agency  in  all  those  wonder- 
ful and  complicated  events,  except  what  can  be  attributed 
to  an  honest  zeal  for  the  good  of  my  country." 

6.  We  question  whether  any  of  these  testimonials  of  a 
nation's  gratitude  affected  Washington  more  sensibly  than 
those  he  received  at  Trenton.  It  was  on  a  sunny  after- 
noon when  he  arrived  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware, 
where,  twelve  years  before^  he  had  crossed  in  darkness  and 
storm,  through  clouds  of  snow  and  drifts  of  floating  ice, 
on  his  daring  attempt  to  strike  a  blow  at  a  triumphant 
enemy.  Here,  at  present,  all  was  peace  and  sunshine; 
the  broad  river  flowed  placidly  along ;  and  crowds  awaited 
him  on  the  opposite  bank,  to  hail  him  with  love  and 
transport. 

7.  We  will  not  dwell  on  the  joyous  ceremonials  with 
w^hich  he  was  welcomed ;  but  there  was  one  too  peculiar 
to  be  omitted.  The  reader  may  remember  Washington's 
gloomy  night  on  the  banks  of  the  Assunpink,  which  flows 
through  Trenton  ;  the  camp-fires  of  Cornwallis^  in  front 
of  him,  the  Delaware  full  of  floating  ice  in  the  rear,  and 
his  sudden  resolve  on  that  midnifjht  retreat  which  turned 
the  fortunes  of  the  campaign.  On  the  bridge  crossing  that 
eventful  stream,  the  ladies  of  Trenton  had  caused  a  tri- 
umphal arch  to  be  erected.  It  was  intwined  with  ever- 
jrrecns  and  laurels,  and  bore  the  inscription,  —  ''The 
Defender  of  the  jNIothers  will  be  the  Protector 
OF  the  Daughters." 

8.  At  this  bridge  the  matrons  of  the  city  were  assembled 


392*  SANDEES'  UNION   SEEIES. 

to  pay  him  reverence ;  and,  as  he  passed  under  the  arch, 
a  number  of  young  girls,  dressed  in  white  and  crowned 
with  garlands,  strewed  flowers  before  him,  singing  an  ode 
expressive  of  their  love  and  gratitude.  Never  was  ovation 
more*  graceful,  touching,  and  sincere;  and  Washington, 
tenderly  affected,  declared  that  the  impression  of  it  on  his 
heart  could  never  be  effaced.  His  whole  progress  through 
New  Jersey  must  have  afforded  a  similar  contrast  to  his 
weary  marchings  to  and  fro,  harassed  by  doubts  and  per- 
plexities, with  bale-fires  blazing  on  its  hills,  instead  of 
festive  illuminations,  and  when  the  ringing  of  bells  and 
booming  of  cannon,  now  so  joyous,  were  the  signals  of 
invasion  and  maraud. 

9.  In  respect  to  his  reception  at  New  York,  Washington 
had  signified  in  a  letter  to  Governor  Clinton  that  none 
could  be  so  congenial  to  his  feelings  as  a  quiet  entry, 
devoid  of  ceremony ;  but  his  modest  wishes  were  not  com- 
plied with.  At  Elizabeth  town  Point,  a  committee  of  both 
Houses  of  'Congress,  with  various  civic  functionaries, 
waited  by  appointment  to  receive  him.  He  embarked 
on  board  of  a  splendid  barge  constructed  for  the  occasion. 
It  was  manned  by  thirteen  branch-pilots,  masters  of  ves- 
sels, in  white  uniforms,  and  commanded  by  Commodore 
Nicholson.  Other  barges  fancifully  decorated  followed, 
having  on  board  the  heads  of  departments,  and  other  pub- 
lic officers,  and  several  distinguished  citizens.  As  they 
passed  through  the  strait  between  the  Jerseys  and  Staten 
Island,  called  the  Kills,  other  boats  decorated  with  flags 
foil  in  their  wake,  until  the  whole,  forming  a  nautical  pro- 
cession, swept  up  the  broad  and  beautiful  bay  of  New  York 
to  the  sound  of  instrumental  music. 

10.  On  board  of  two  vessels  were  parties  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  who  sang  congratulatory  odes  as  Washington's 


UNION  FIFTH   READER.  393 

barge  approached.  The  sliips  at  anchor  in  the  harbor, 
dressed  in  colors,  fired  salutes  as  it  passed.  One  alone, 
*•'  The  Galveston,"  a  Spanish  man-of-war,  displayed  no  signs 
of  gratulation  until  the  barge  of  the  general  was  nearly 
abreast ;  when  suddenly,  as  if  by  magic,  the  yards  were 
manned  ;  the  ship  burst  forth,  as  it  were,  into  a  full  array 
of  fla^s  and  sionals,  and  thundered  a  salute  of  thirteen 
guns.  He  approached  the  landing-place  of  Murray's 
Wharf  amid  the  ringing  of  bells,  the  roaring  of  cannonry, 
and  the  shouting  of  multitudes  collected  on  every  pier- 
head. 

11.  On  landing,  he  was  received  by  Governor  Clinton. 
General  Knox,'-  too,  who  had  taken  such  affectionate  leave 
of  him  on  his  retirement  from  military  life,  was  there  to 
welcome  him  in  his  civil  capacity.  Other  of  his  fellow- 
soldiers  of  the  Revolution  were  likewise  there,  and  mingled 
with  the  civic  dignitaries.  At  this  juncture,  an  officer 
stepjjed  up   and  requested  Washington's  orders,  announ- 

eino;  himself  as  commandino;  his  guard.      Washino-ton  de- 
cs o  o  & 

sired  him  to  proceed  according  to  the  directions  he  might 
have  received  in  the  present  arrangements  ;  but  that,  for 
the  future^  the  affection  of  his  fellow-citizens  was  all  the 
guard  he  wanted. 

12.  Carpets  had  been  spread  to  a  carriage  prepared  to 
convey  him  to  his  destined  residence  ;  but  he  preferred  to 
walk.  He  was  attended  by  a  long  civil  and  military  train. 
In  the  streets  through  which  he  passed,  the  houses  were 
decorated  with  flags,  silken  banners,  garlands  of  flowers 
and  evergreens,  and  bore  his  name  in  every  form  of  orna- 
ment. The  streets  were  crowded  with  people,  so  that  it 
was  with  difficulty  a  passage  could  be  made  by  the  city 
officers.  Washington  frequently  bowed  to  the  multitude 
as  he  passed,  taking  off  his"  hat  to  the  ladies,  who  thronged 


394  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

every  window,  waving  their  handkerchiefs,  throwing  flow- 
ers before  him,  and  many  of  them  shedding  tears  of  enthu- 
biasm. 


LESSON   CXXIV. 

*  C^'  SAR,  Caius  Julius,  the  first  Roman  emperor,  was  born  July  12,  b.c. 
100.  He  was  one  of  the  greatest  warriors  that  Rome  ever  produced. 
Having  subjugated  Gaul,  he  quarreled  with  Pompey,  and,  pursuing 
him  into  Greece,  brought  the  contest  to  a  final  issue  on  the  plains  of 
Pharsalia,  Aug.  4,  b  c.  48.  He  next  went  to  Africa;  and,  having  van- 
quished the  army  under  Scipio  and  Cato,  he  returned  in  triumph  to 
Rome,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  duties  of  dictator.  But  his  career 
was  destined  to  be  short.  A  conspiracy  against  his  life  was  formed ; 
and  on  the  Ides,  or  15th,  of  March,  he  perished  by  the  hands  of  assas- 
sins in  the  senate-house,  B.C.  44.  As  a  warrior,  statesman,  and  a  man 
of  letters,  Coesar  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  that  ever  lived. 

^Bo'na  parte.  Napoleon,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  military  men, 
was  born  in  Corsica,  an  island  in  the  Mediterranean,  Feb.  5,  1768: 
although  he  afterwards  gave  out  that  he  was  born  1.5th  August,  1769 ; 
and  that  is  usually  considered  as  the  period  of  his  nativity.  After 
leaving  the  military  school  at  Brienne,  he  went  to  Paris,  and  entered 
wpon  his  military  career.  In  1S04,  he  became  Emperor  of  Prance. 
After  remarkable  successes  and  reverses,  he  was  defeated  by  the  allied 
armies  under  Wellington,  June  18,  1815.  He  was  removed  to  St. 
Helena,  where  he  died  May  5,  1821. 

LINCOLN'S  JOURNEY  TO  HIS  INAUGURATION. 

L.  H.  WHITNEY. 

SPECIAL  train  of  cars  was  provided  for  him  ;  and, 


A 


on  the  eleventli  day  of  February,  1861,  bidding  fare- 
well to  his  neiglibors  and  friends  at  Springfield  in  tliese 
solemn  words,  he  took  his  departure  :  — 

"  My  Friends^  —  No  one,  not  in  my  position,  can  ap- 
preciate THE  SADNESS  I  FEELAT  THIS  PARTING.  To  THIS 
PEOPLE  I  OWE  ALL  THAT  I  AM.       HeRE  HAVE  I  LIVED    FOR 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  395 

MORE  THAN  A  QUARTER  OF  A  CENTURY  ;  HERE  MY  CHILDREN 
WERE  BORN,  AND  HERE  ONE  OF  THEM  LIES  BURIED.  I 
KNOW  NOT  HOW  SOON  I  SHALL  SEE  YOU  AGAIN.  A  DUTY 
DEVOLVES  UPON  ME,  WHICH  IS,  PERHAPS,  GREATER  THAN 
THAT  WHICH  HAS  DEVOLVED  UPON  ANY  OTHER  MAN  SINCE 
THE  DAYS  OF  WASHINGTON.  No  MAN  COULD  HAVE  SUC- 
CEEDED, EXCEPT  BY  THE  AID  OF  DiVINE  PROVIDENCE,  UPON 
WHICH  HE  AT  ALL  TIMES  RELIED.  I  FEEL  THAT  I  CAN  NOT 
SUCCEED  WITHOUT  THE  SAME  DIVINE  AID  THAT  SUSTAINED 
HIM,  AND  IN  THE  SAME  AlMIGHTY  BeING  I  PLACE  MY  RE- 
LIANCE FOR  SUPPORT  ;  AND  I  HOPE  YOU,  MY  FRIENDS,  WTLL 
ALL  PRAY  THAT  I  MAY  RECEIVE  THAT  DIVINE  ASSISTANCE, 
WITHOUT  WHICH  I  CAN  NOT  SUCCEED,  BUT  WITH  WHICH 
SUCCESS  IS  CERTAIN.  AgAIN  I  BID  YOU  ALL  AN  AFFECTION- 
ATE FAREWELL." 

2.  Toward  the  conclusion  of  these  remarks,  himself  and 
audience  were  moved  to  tears.  His  request  that  he  might 
have  the  prayers  of  his  friends  and  neighbors  for  his  suc- 
cess was  responded  to  by  choked  exclamations  of  ^'  We 
will!  we  will!^''  As  he  turned,  and  entered  the  cars, 
three  cheers  burst  involuntarily  from  a  thousand  lips;  and 
a  Godspeed  and  safe  journey  were  wished  him  as  the  train 
moved  slowly  out  of  sight.  When  he  went  forth  from  his 
quiet  home  in  the  West  to  put  upon  him  the  majestic 
robes  of  that  more  than  kingly  office,  the  nation  and  the 
w^orld  listened  to  his  utterances  and  watched  his  steps  Avith 
extraordinary  interest. 

3.  His  journey  was  like  the  march  of  a  conqueror. 
Curious  crowds  gathered  all  along  the  road  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  him  as  the  train  rushed  past  them.  Cheers, 
the  waving  of  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  and  the  booming  of 
cannon,  greeted  him  at  every  station.  At  the  last  town  in 
his  State,  he  told  the  throng  that  gathered  about  him  that 


396  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

he  was  "  leaving  them  upon  an  errand  of  national  impor- 
tance, attended  with  many  difficulties  ;  but,  as  the  poet  has 
expressed  it,  let  us  believe  that 

*  There's  a  silver  lining  to  every  cloud.' " 

The  train  swept  on ;  his  route  lay  through  most  of  the 
great  cities  of  the  Northern  States,  and  all  vied  to  do  him 
honor. 

4.  Immense  crowds  awaited  his  coming.  Flags  and 
banners  were  suspended  across  the  track.  The  roar  of' 
cannon  announced  his  approach.  The  streets  were  liter^ 
ally  blocked  with  people  assembled  to  greet  him.  Th^ 
reception  was  an  era  in  his  life,  as  well  as  in  the  history  of 
the  country.  No  king,  however  mighty,  was  ever  greeteci 
with  such  welcome.  Caesar^  and  Napoleon^  had  their  tri- 
umphs ;  but  they  rode  to  power  amid  a  deluge  of  blood 
and  tears.  The  object  of  this  grateful  homage  had  been 
elevated  to  an  honor  more  lofty  than  their  thrones  by  the 
wish  and  will  of  a  great  and  intelligent  people,  thr<»ugh 
the  peaceful  agency  of  the  ballot-box. 


LESSON   CXXV. 

DAY-STAR    OF    LIBERTY. 

M.  A.  MOSES. 


•I 


N  that  dark,  gloomy  night, 
Ere  Freedom's  bright  mom, 
When  the  strong  hand  of  J\light 
Man's  Right  laughed  to  scorn. 


UNION  FIFTH   HEADER.  397 

Througli  battle  and  strife, 

Through  blood  and  througli  death, 
Came  a  glorious  life,  — 
'Twas  Liberty's  birth ! 
Through  the  smoke  of  that  conflict  pervading  the  skies, 
Behold  the  day-star  of  Liberty  rise ! 

2.  Li  the  gathering  gloom 

Of  that  perilous  hour, 
When  our  fathers  o'ertumed 

The  mad  tyrant's  power ; 
Through  darkness  and  storm, 

By  night  and  by  day. 
The  pure  light  of  freedom 
Illumined  the  way : 
'Twas  then,  O  Columbia !  'mid  carnage  and  war, 
First  dawned  on  the  world  thy  bright  natal  star  I 

3.  On  Lexincrton's  sward, 

Down  Bunker's  steep  side. 
From  the  breasts  of  the  slain 
Ran  the  crimson  life-tide ; 
Across  Delaware's  stream, 

Through  bleak  Valley  Forge, 
Where  blood  marked  their  steps 
In  that  wild  mountain  gorge  ; 
Still  Freedom's  blest  hope  those  heroes  led  on 
To  battle  and  death,  till  triumph  was  won. 

4.  On  Camden's  hot  plains. 

By  Brandywine's  wave, 
The  cohorts  of  foemen 
Found  many  a  grave  ; 


398  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

And  Yorktown's  proud  rampart 

In  vain  raised  its  side 
'Gainst  the  wild  rushing  surge 
Of  Liberty's  tide ; 
In  a  halo  of  glory,  o'er  land  and  o'er  sea, 
Kovv  floats  in  glad  triumph  the  flag  ©f  the  free ! 

5.  From  hill-top  and  mountain, 

From  valley  and  plain. 
Ring  glad  shouts  from  millions 

For  Liberty's  reign  ; 
The  forest  and  prairie, 

The  ocean  and  stream, 
In  the  sunlight  of  freedom 
With  new  luster  gleam  ; 
While  our  bright  starry  banner,  wherever  unfurled, 
Is  humanity's  beacon,  —  the  hope  of  the  world! 

6.  Say,  sons  of  the  martyrs 

In  Fx'eedom's  cause  slain. 
Shall  the  strong  hand  of  tyrants 

This  land  rend  in  twain  ? 
By  the  blood  of  those  martyrs 

For  you  freely  given. 
By  the  pra,yers  of  the  millions 
Ascending  to  heaven. 
Go,  kneel  at  the  graves  of  your  fathers,  and  swear 
That  our  flag  shall  still  float  in  Freedom's  pure  air ! 


LESSON    CXXYL 

'Xerx'  es,  (ZerW  es,)  the  celebrated  Kini^  of  Persia,  was  the  son  of 
Darius.  He  succeeded  his  father,  485  B.C.,  and  raised  an  army  of 
1,700,000  foot  and  80,000  horse,  besides  camels,  chariots,  and  ships 
of  war.    While  the  Pass  of  Thermopylae  was  defended  by  Leonidas  and 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  399 

his  Spartans,  Themistocles  rallied  his  countrymen,  and  defeated  Xerxes 
at  the  battle  of  Salamis,  480  B.C.     (Refer  to  note  in  Fourth  Reader.) 

'  Grac'  chus,  Tiberius  and  Caius,  two  brothers,  Roman  tribunes,  who 
having  urged  the  revival  of  the  agrarian  laws,  which  required  a  divis- 
ion of  the  public  lands  among  the  people,  were  successively  slain  in  a 
tumult  raised  by  the  senators  and  nobles.  The  mother  of  the  Gracchi 
was  Cornelia,  the  daughter  of  the  famous  Scipio  Africanus,  who 
defeated  Hannibal  in  the  battle  of  Zama,  and  humbled  the  pride  of 
Carthage,  at  the  close  of  the  Second  Punic  War,  202  B.C. 

*  Her'  MANN,  or  Arminius,  a  brave  German  patriot  and  soldier,  who  for 
some  time  supported  a  bloody  war  against  Rome,  but  was  at  last  de- 
feated by  Germanicus,  and  subsequently  poisoned  through  the  treach- 
ery of  one  of  his  friends,  a.d.  19. 

*Tell,  William,  was  a  peasant,  born  near  Altorf,  iff  Switzerland,  and 
celebrated  for  his  resistance  to  the  tyranny  of  Gesler,  an  Austrian  gov- 
ernor. He  was  compelled  to  shoot  an  apple  from  his  son's  head  for 
refusing  to  bow  to  Gesler's  hat  elevated  on  a  pole.  Being  a  skillful 
archer,  he  cleft  the  apple  without  injury  to  his  son. 

^Spar'ta  cus,  a  native  of  Thrace,  became  a  soldier  in  the  Roman  army, 
and,  having  deserted,  was  sold  as  a  slave,  and  finally  numbered  with 
the  gladiators  condemned  to  destroy  each  other  for  the  amusement  of 
the  people.  Having  made  his  escape,  he  collected  a  band  of  despe- 
radoes, and,  for  a  long  time,  bade  defiance  to  the  whole  power  of 
Rome.  He  was  at  last,  however,  defeated  by  the  Romans  under  Cras- 
sus,  71  B.C. 

•^Wat  the  Tyler.  In  the  reign  of  Richard  II.,  King  of  England,  a  poll- 
tax  of  three  groats  was  levied  on  each  male  and  female  above  the  age 
of  fifteen.  The  proceedings  of  the  collectors  of  these  taxes  were  of 
the  most  inquisitorial  character ;  and  their  insults  to  the  young  women 
became  so  odious,  that  they  were  resisted  by  the  people.  One  Walter 
the  Tyler,  having  knocked  a  tax-gatherer  on  the  head  for  insulting  his 
daughter,  Avas  made  chief  of  the  insurgents ;  and  hence  the  popular 
rising  of  the  people  is  known  as  Wat  the  Tyler's  Rebellion. 

«0N  TO  FREEDOM." 

A.  J.   H.  DUG  ANNE. 

N  to  Freedom !  on  to  Freedom ! " 
'Tis  tlie  everlasting  cry 
Of  the  floods  that  strive  with  ocean, 
Of  the  storm  that  smites  the  sky, 


1...Q 


400  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

Of  the  atoms  in  the  whirlwindj 
Of  the  seed  beneath  the  ground, 

Of  each  Hving  thing  in  Nature 
That  is  bound. 

'Twas  the  cry  that  led  from  Egypt,  ^ 
Through  the  desert  wilds  of  Edom,  — 

Out  of  darkness,  out  of  bondage, — 
''  On  to  Freedom  !  on  to  Freedom  I " 

2.  O  thou  stony-hearted  Pharaoh, 

Vainly  warrest  thou  with  God ! 
Moveless  at  thy  palace-portals, 

Moses  waits  with  lifted  rod  ! 
O  thou  poor  barbarian  Xerxes,^ 

Vainly  o'er  the  Pontic  main 
Flino-est  thou  to  curb  its  utterance 

o 

Scourge  or  chain  ! 
For  the  cry  that  led  from  Egypt, 

Over  desert  wilds  of  Edom, 
Speaks  alike  through  Greek  and  Hebrew, 

''''On  to  Freedom!  on  to  Freedom T'* 

3.  In  the  Roman  streets,  from  Gracchus,^ 

Hark  !  I  heai*  that  cry  out-swell ; 
In  the  German  woods,  from  Hermann ;' 

And  on  Switzer  hills,  from  Tell^ ! 
Up  from  Spartacus,^  the  bondman, 

When  his  tyrant's  yoke  he  clave ; 
And  from  stalwart  Wat  the  Tyler,® 

Saxon  slave  ! 
Still  the  old,  old  cry  of  Egypt, 

Struggling  out  from  wilds  of  Edom, 
Sounding  down  through  all  the  ages,  — 

'-'-On  to  Freedom!  on  to  Freedom!" 


UNION  FIFTH  READER. 

4.  God's  own  mandate,  —  "  On  to  Freedom !  " 

Gospel-cry  of  laboring  Time, 
Uttering  still,  through  seers  and  heroes, 

Words  of  hope  and  faith  sublime  ! 
From  our  Sidneys,  and  our  Hampdens, 

And  our  Washingtons,  they  come  ; 
And  we  can  not,  and  we  dare  not, 

Make  them  dumb ! 
Out  of  all  the  shames  of  Egypt, 

Out  of  all  the  snares  of  Edom, 
Out  of  darkness,  out'of  bondage, — 

''O/i  to  Freedom!  on  to  Freedom  I " 


401 


LESSON    CXXYII. 

ADDRESS  TO  THE  RETURNED  SOLDIERS. 

REV.  J.  M.  MANNING. 

SOLDIERS  from  the  army  and  navy,  once  soldiers,  but 
now  again  citizens,  we  hail  you  to-day  as  our  bene- 
factors and  deliverers.  We  welcome  you  home  from  the 
fatigues  of  the  march,  the  wearisome  camp,  and  the  awful 
ecstasy  of  battle.  Through  four  terrible  years  you  have 
looked  without  quailing  on  the  ghastly  visage  of  war. 
You  have  patiently  borne  the  heats  of  summer  and  the 
frosts  of  winter.  You  have  cheerfully  exchanged  the  de- 
lights of  home  for  the  hardships  of  the  campaign  or  block- 
ade. Not  only  the  armed  foe,  but  the  wasting  malaria, 
has  lurked  along  your  resistless  advance. 

2.  You  know  the  agony  and  the  transport  of  the  deadly 
encounter.     How  many  times,  standing  each  man  at  his 
post,  in  the  long  line  of  gleaming  sabers  and  bayonets, 
26 


402  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

every  hand  clinched,  and  every  eye  distended,  you  have 
caught  the  peal  of  your  leader's  clarion,  and  sprung 
through  the  iron  storm  to  the  embrace  of  victory !  But 
all  that  has  passed  away.  The  mangled  forests  are  putting 
on  an  unwonted  verdure,  the  fields  once  blackened  by  the 
fiery  breath  of  war  ai'e  now  covered  with  their  softest 
bloom,  and  the  vessels  of  commerce  are  riding  on  all  the 
national  waters. 

3.  The  carnage,  the  groans,  the  cries  for  succor,  the 
fierce  onset  and  sullen  recoil,  the  thunders  of  the  artillery, 
and  the  missiles  screaming  like  demons  in  the  air,  have 
given  way  to  paeans,  civic  processions,  and  songs  of  thanks- 
giving. The  flag  of  your  country,  so  often  rent  and  torn 
in  your  grasp,  and  which  you  have  borne  in  triumph  again 
and  again,  over  the  quaking  earth,  or  through  the  hurri- 
cane of  death,  on  river  and  bay,  rolls  out  its  peaceful  folds 
above  you,  every  star  blazing  with  the  glory  of  your  deeds, 
in  token  of  a  Nation's  gratitude.  We  come  forth  to  meet 
you  —  sires  and  matrons,  young  men  and  maidens,  chil- 
dren and  those  bowed  with  age  —  to  own  the  vast  debt 
which  we  can  never  pay,  and  to  say,  from  full  hearts,  we 
thank  you ;   God  bless  you  ! 

4.  But  while  we  thus  address  you,  you  are  thinking  of 
the  fallen.  With  a  soldier's  generosity,  you  wish  they 
could  be  here  to  share  in  this  welcome.  But  they  peace- 
fully rest  in  the  humble  grave  in  which  you  laid  them,  and 
their  names  are  enshrined  in  the  grateful  remembrance  of 
the  Nation.  You  may  tarnish  your  laurels,  or  an  envious 
hand  may  pluck  them  from  your  brows.  Bvit  your  fallen 
comrades  are  exposed  to  no  such  accident.  They  are 
doubly  fortunate  ;  for  the  same  event  which  crowned  them 
with  honor,  has  placed  them  beyond  the  possibility  of 
losing  their  crown. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  403 

6.  Many  of  them  died  in  the  darkest  hours  of  the  re- 
pubHc  ;  others  m  the  early  dawn  of  peace,  while  the  morn- 
ing-stars were  singing  together.  But  victory  and  defeat 
make  no  differences  among  them  now.  They  have  all 
conquered  in  the  final  triumph.  Their  names  will  thrill 
the  coming  ages,  as  they  are  spoken  by  the  tongues  of  the 
eloquent ;  and  their  deeds  will  forever  be  chanted  by  im- 
mortal minstrels. 

6.  "  By  fairy  hands  their  knell  is  iTing, 

By  forms  unseen  their  dirge  is  sung  ; 

There  Honor  comes,  a  pilgrim  gray, 

To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  their  clay ; 

And  Freedom  shall  awhile  repair, 

To  dwell  a  weeping  hermit  there." 


LESSON    CXXVIII. 
THE   HONORED  DEAD. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 

HOW  bright  are  the  honors  which  await  those  who, 
with  sacred  fortitude  and  patriotic  patience,  have  en- 
dured all  things  that  they  might  save  their  native  land 
from  division  !  The  honored  dead  !  They  that  die  for 
a  good  cause  are  redeemed  from  death.  Their  names  are 
gathered  and  garnered.  Their  memory  is  precious.  Each 
place  grows  proud  for  them  who  were  born  there. 

2.  There  is  to  be,  ere  long,  in  every  village,  and  in 
every  neighborhood,  a  glowing  pride  in  its  martyred  he- 
roes. Tablets  shall  preserve  their  names.  Pious  love 
shall  renew  their  inscriptions  as  time  and  the  unfeeling 
elements  efface  them.  And  the  national  festivals  shall 
give    multitudes  of  precious  names  to  the   orator's  lips. 


404  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

Children  shall  grow  up  under  more  sacred  inspirations, 
whose  elder  brothers,  dying  nobly  for  their  country,  left  a 
name  that  honored  and  inspired  all.  who  bore  it.  Orphan 
children  shall  find  thousands  of  fathers  and  mothers  to  love 
and  help  those  whom  dying  heroes  left  as  a  legacy  to  the 
gratitude  of  the  public. 

3.  Oh,  tell  me  not  that  they  are  dead,  —  that  generous 
host,  that  airy  army  of  invisible  heroes !  They  hover  as 
a  cloud  of  witnesses  above  this  nation.  Are  they  dead  that 
yet  speak  louder  than  we  can  speak,  and  a  more  universal 
language'  ?  Are  they  dead  that  yet  act'  ?  Are  they  dead 
that  yet  move  upon  society,  and  inspire  the  people  with 
nobler  motives  and  more  heroic  patriotism'? 

4.  Ye  that  mourn,  let  gladness  mingle  with  your  tears. 
He  was  your  son  ;  but  now  he  is  the  nation's.  He  made 
your  household  bright ;  now  his  example  inspires  a  thou- 
sand households.  Dear  to  his  brothers  and  sisters,  he  is 
now  brother  to  every  generous  youth  in  the  land.  Before^ 
he  was  narrowed,  appropriated,  shut  up  to  you.  Now  he  is 
augmented,  set  free,  and  given  to  alL  He  has  died  from 
the  family  that  he  might  live  to  the  nation.  Not  one  name 
shall  be  forgotten  or  neglected  ;  and  it  shall,  by  and  by,  be 
confessed  of  our  modern  heroes,  as  it  is  of  an  ancient  hero, 
that  he  did  more  for  his  country  by  his  death  than  by  his 
whole  life. 

5.  Neither  are  they  less  honored  who  shall  bear  through 
life  the  marks  of  wounds  and  sufferings.  Neither  epaulet 
nor  badge  is  so  honorable  as  wounds  received  in  a  good 
cause.  Many  a  man  shall  envy  him  who  henceforth  limps. 
So  strange  is  the  transforming  power  of  patriotic  ardor, 
that  men  shall  almost  covet  disfigurement.  Crowds  will 
give  way  to  hobbling  cripples,  and  uncover  in  the  presence 
of  feebleness  and   helplessness.      And   buoyant   children 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  405 

shall  pause  in  their  noisy  games,  and  with  loving  rever- 
ence honor  those  whose  hands  can  work  no  more,  and 
whose  feet  are  no  longer  able  to  march  except  upon  that 
journey  which  brings  good  men  to  honor  and  immortality. 

6.  O  mother  of  lost  children !  set  not  in  darkness  nor 
sorrow  those  whom  a  nation  honors.  O  mourners  of  tlie 
early  dead !  they  shall  live  again,  and  live  forever.  Your 
sorrows  are  our  gladness.  The  nation  lives  because  you' 
gave  it  men  that  loved  it  better  than  their  own  lives.  And 
when  a  few  more  days  shall  have  cleared  the  perils  from 
around  the  Nation's  brow,  and  she  shall  sit  in  unsullied 
garments  of  liberty,  with  justice  upon  her  forehead,  love  in 
her  eyes,  and  truth  upon  her  lips,  she  shall  not  forget  those 
whose  blood  gave  vital  currents  to  her  heart,  and  whose 
life,  given  to  her,  shall  Hve  with  her  hfe  till  time  shall  be 
no  more. 

7.  Every  mountain  and  hill  shall  have  its  treasured 
name,  every  river  shall  keep  some  solemn  title,  every  val- 
ley and  every  lake  shall  cherish  its  honored  register ;  and 
till  the  mountains  are  w^oni  out,  and  the  rivers  forget  to 
flow,  till  the  clouds  are  weary  of  replenishing  springs,  and 
the  springs  forget  to  gush,  and  the  rills  to  sing,  shall  their 
names  be  kept  fresh  with  reverent  honors  which  are  in- 
scribed upon  the  book  of  National  Remembrance. 


LESSON   CXXIX 

*  Tat  too',  a  beat  of  drum  at  night,  giving  notice  to  soldiers  to  retreat,  or 
to  repair  to  their  quarters  in  garrison,  or  to  their  tents  in  camp. 

'Biv'ocAC,  [hiv'  wdk,)  the  guard  or  watch  of  a  whole  army,  as  in  cases  of 
great  danger  of  surprise  or  attack ;  an  encampment  without  tents  or 
covering. 

The  following  poem  was  written  on  the  occasion  of  the  removal  to  the 
cemetery  at  Fraifkfort  of  the  remains  of  Kentucky  soldiers  who  fell  at 
Buena  Vista,  Mexico. 


406  SAKDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

THE    SOLDIER'S    DIRGE. 

COL.  O'HAKA. 

1.  rTHE  muffled  drum's  sad  roll  has  beat 

I     The  soldier's  last  tattoo^ ; 
No  more  on  life's  parade  shall  meet 

That  brave  and  fallen  few. 
On  Fame's  eternal  camping-ground 

Their  silent  tents  are  spread ; 
And  glory  guards  with  solemn  round 

The  bivouac^  of  the  dead. 

2.  No  rumor  of  the  foe's  advance 

Now  swells  upon  the  wind  ; 
^  No  troubled  thoughts,  at  midnight  haunts, 

Of  loved  ones  left  behind ; 
No  vision  of  the  morrow's  strife 

The  warrior's  dream  alarms ; 
No  braying  horn,  nor  screaming  fife, 

At  dawn  shall  call  to  arms. 

3.  Rest  on,  embalmed  and  sainted  dead, 

Dear  as  the  blood  ye  gave ; 
No  impious  footstep  here  shall  tread 

The  herbage  of  your  grave. 
Nor  shall  your  glory  be  forgot, 

While  Fame  her  record  keeps, 
Or  Honor  points  the  hallowed  spot 

Where  valor  proudly  sleeps. 

■  4.  Yon  faithful  herald's  blazoned  stone 
With  mournful  pride  shall  tell, 
When  many  a  vanished  age  hath  flown, 
The  story  how  ye  fell. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  407 

Nor  wreck,  nor  change,  nor  winter's  flight, 

Nor  time's  remorseless  doom. 
Shall  mar  one  ray  of  glory's  light 

That  gilds  your  deathless  tomb. 


LESSON    CXXX. 
THE    WIDOWED    SWORD. 

ANON. 

THEY  have  sent  me  the  sword  that  my  brave  boy 
wore 
On  the  field  of  his  young  renown,  — 
On  the  last  red  field,  where  his  faith  was  sealed, 
And  the  sun  of  his  days  went  down. 
Away  with  the  tears 

That  are  blinding  me  so ! 
There  is  joy  in  his  years. 

Though  his  young  head  be  low : 
And  I'll  gaze  with  a  solemn  delight,  evermore, 
On  the  sword  that  my  brave  boy  wore. 

'Twas  for  Freedom  and  Home  that  I  gave  him  away, 

Like  the  sons  of  his  race  of  old  ; 
And  though,  aged  and  gray,  I  am  childless  this  day, 
He  is  dearer  a  thousand-fold. 
There's  glory  above  him 

To  hallow  his  name  ; 
A  land  that  will  love  him 
Who  died  for  its  fame  ; 
And  a  solace  will  shine,  when  my  old  heart  is  sore, 
Round  the  sword  that  my  brave  boy  wore. 


408  SANDEES'  UNION  SERIES. 

3.  All  SO  noble,  so  true,  —  how  they  stood,  How  they  fell, 

In  the  battle,  the  plague,  and  the  cold  ! 
Oh,  as  bravely  and  well  as  e'er  story  could  tell 
Of  the  flower  of  the  heroes  of  old ! 
Like  a  sword  tlirouo;h  the  foe 

Was  that  fearful  attack 

That,  so  bright  ere  the  blow, 

Comes  so  bloodily  back  ; 

And,  foremost  among  them,  his  colors  he  bore ; 

And  here  is  the  sword  that  my  brave  boy  wore. 

4.  It  was  kind  of  his  comrades,  ye  know  not  how  kind ; 

It  is  more  than  the  Indies  to  me ; 
Ye  know  not  how  kind  and  how  steadfast  of  mind 
The  soldier  to  sorrow  can  be. 

They  know  well  how  lonely, 

How  grievously  wrung, 
Is  the  heart  that  its  only 
Love  loses  so  young ; 
And  they  closed  his  dark  eyes  when  the  battle  was  o'er, 
And  sent  his  old  father  the  sword  that  he  wore. 


LESSOISr   CXXXL 
"GOOD-BY,  OLD  ARM,  GOOD-BY!'* 

GEORGE  COOPER. 

The  incident,  so  pathetically  described  in  this  short  poem,  took  place  in 
one  of  our  hospitals  during  the  war.  The  piece  should  be  read  in  a  low 
and  plaintive  tone  of  voice. 

1.  rpHE  knife  was  still,  —  the  surgeon  bore 
X     The  shattered  arm  away  ; 
Upon  his  bed,  in  painless  sleep, 
The  noble  hero  lay  ; 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  409 

He  woke,  but  saw  the  vacant  place 

Where  limb  of  his  liad  Iain, 
Then  faintly  spoke,  —  "  Oh,  let  me  see 

My  strong  right  arm  again ! " 

2.  "  Good-by,  old  arm  !  '*  the  soldier  said, 

As  he  clasped  the  fingers  cold ; 
And  down  his  pale  but  manly  cheeks 

The  tear-drops  gently  rolled  : 
"  My  strong  right  arm,  no  deed  of  yours 

Now  gives  me  cause  to  sigh  ; 
But  it's  hard  to  part  such  trusty  friends : 

Good-by,  old  arm  !  good-by ! 

3.  "  You've  served  me  well  these  many  yeare, 

In  sunlight  and  in  shade  ; 
But,  comrade,  we  have  done  with  war, — 

Let  dreams  of  glory  fade. 
You'll  never  more  my  saber  swing 

In  battle  fierce  and  hot  ; 
You'll  never  bear  another  flag, 

Or  fire  another  shot. 

4.  I  do  not  mourn  to  lose  you  now 

For  home  and  native  land  : 
Oh,  proud  am  I  to  give  my  mite 

For  freedom  pure  and  grand  ! 
Thank  God  !  no  selfish  thought  is  mine 

While  here  I  bleediuii  He : 
Bear,  bear  it  tenderly  away, — 

Good-by,  old  arm  !  good-by  I " 

18 


410  SANDEKS'  UNION   SEKIES. 


'  LESSON    CXXXIX 

'  CiR  CCM  VAL  la' TiON,  {ciRCUM,  around ;  vallat,  to  wall,  from  xxTj- 
LUM,  rampart;  ion,  the  act  of,)  the  act  of  surrounding  with  a  wall  or 
rampart. 

THE  TEACHER,  THE  HOPE  OF  AMERICA. 

SAMUEL   EELLS,  1837. 

rriHE  patriot  wlio  contemplates  the  vastness  of  this  repub- 
JL  lie,  and  the  diversified  and  conflicting  interests  of  its 
entire  population,  can  not  but  regard  its  future  welfare 
with  the  deepest  solicitude.  Look  abroad  over  this  Coun- 
try; mark  her  extent,  her  wealth,  her  fertility,  her  bound- 
less resources,  the  giant  energies  which  every  day  develops, 
and  which  she  seems  already  bending  on  that  fatal  race, — 
tempting,  yet  always  fatal  to  republics,  —  the  race  for 
physical  greatness  and  aggrandizement. 

2.  Behold,  too,  that  continuous  and  mighty  tide  of  popu- 
lation, native  and  foreign,  which  is  forever  rushing  through 
the  great  valley  toward  the  setting  sun ;  sweeping  away 
the  wilderness  before  it  like  grass  before  the  mower ;  wak- 
ing up  industry  and  civilization  in  its  progress ;  studding 
the  solitary  rivers  of  the  TVest  with  marts  and  cities ;  dot- 
ting its  boundless  prairies  with  human  habitations ;  pene- 
trating every  green  nook  and  vale  ;  climbing  every  fertile 
ridge ;  and  still  gathering  and  pouring  onward,  to  form 
new  States  in  those  vast  and  yet  unpeopled  solitudes 
where  the  Oregon  rolls  his  majestic  flood,  and 

"  Hears  no  sound  saA'c  his  own  dashing." 

3.  Mark  all  this,  and  then  say  by  what  bonds  will  yon 
hold  together  so  mighty  a  people  and  so  immense  an 
empire  ?  What  safeguard  will  you  give  us  against  the 
dangers  which  must  inevitably  grow  out  of  so  vast  and 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  411 

complicate  an  organization  ?  In  the  swelling  tide  of  our 
prosperity,  what  a  field  will  open  for  political  corruption  I 
What  a  world  of  evil  passions  to  control,  and  jarring  in- 
terests to-  reconcile  I  What  temptations  will  there  be  to 
luxury  and  extravagance  1  What  motives  to  private  and 
official  cupidity !  What  prizes  will  hang  glittering  at  a 
thousand  goals,  to  dazzle  and  tempt  ambition ! 

4.  Do  we  expect  to  find  our  security  against  these  dan- 
gers in  railroads  and  canals,  in  our  circumvallations,^  and 
ships  of  war  ?  Alas !  when  shall  we  learn  wisdom  from 
the  lessons  of  history  ?  Our  most  dangerous  enemies  ivill 
groio  up  from  our  oivn  bosom.  We  may  erect  bulwarks 
against  foreign  invasion ;  but  what  power  shall  we  find  in 
walls  and  armies  to  protect  the  people  against  themselves  ? 
There  is  but  one  sort  of  ''internal  improvement"  —  more 
thoroughly  internal  than  that  which  is  lauded  by  politicians 
—  that  is  able  to  save  this  country.  I  mean  the  improve- 
ment of  the  minds  and  souls-  of  her  jjeojjle, 

5.  If  this  improvement  shall  be  neglected,  and  shall  fail 
to  keep  pace  with  the  increase  of  our  population  and  oui 
physical  advancement,  one  of  two  alternatives  is  certain : 
either  the  nation  must  dissolve  in  anarchy,  under  the  rulers 
of  its  own  choice;  or,  if  held  together  at  all,  it  must  be  by 
a  government  so  strong  and  rigorous  as  to  be  utterly  incon- 
sistent with  constitutional  liberty.  Let  the  hundreds  of 
millions  which,  at  no  very  distant  day,  will  swarm  in  our 
cities,  and  fill  up  our  great  interior,  remain  sunk  in  igno- 
rance and  vice,  and  nothing  short  of  an  iron  despotism  will 
vSufRce  to  govern  the  nation,  —  to  reconcile  its  vast  and 
conflicting  interests,  control  its  elements  of  agitation,  and 
hold  back  its  fiery  and  headlong  energies  from  dismember- 
ment and  ruin. 

6.  How,  then,  is  this  improvement  to  be  effected  ?    Who 


412  SANDEKS'  UNION  SEPJES. 

are  the  agents  of  it  ?  Who  are  they  who  shall  stand  per- 
petually as  priests  at  the  altar  of  Freedom,  and  feed  its 
sacred  fires  by  dispensing  that  knowledge  and  cultivation 
on  which  hangs  our  political  salvation  ?  They  are  the 
TEACHERS  of  our  schools,  the  instructors  in  our  academies 
and  colleges,  arid  in  all  those  institutions,  of  whatever  name, 
which  Jiave  for  their  object  the  intellectual  and  moral  cul- 
ture of  our  youth,  and  the  division  of  knowledge  among 
our  people. 

7.  Theirs  is  the  moral  dignity  of  stamping  the  great 
features  of  our  national  character,  and,  in  the  moral  worth 
and  intelligence  which  they  give  it,  of  erecting  a  bulwark 
which  shall  prove  impregnable  in  that  hour  of  trial,  when 
armies,  and  fleets,  and  fortifications  shall  be  vain.  And 
when  those  mighty  and  all-absorbing  questions  shall  be 
heard,  which  are  even  now  sending  their  bold  demands 
into  the  ear  of  rulers  and  lawgivers,  which  are  momenta- 
rily pressing  forward  to  a  solemn  decision  in  the  sight  of 
God  and  of  all  nations,  and  which,  when  the  hour  of  their 
decision  shall  come,  will  shake  this  country  —  the  Union, 
the  Constitution  —  as  with  the  shaking  of  an  earthquake, 
■ — it  is  they  who,  in  that  fearful  hour,  will  gather  around 
the  structure  of  our  political  organization,  and,  with  up- 
lifted hands,  stay  the  reeling  fabric  till  the  storm  and  the 
convulsion  be  overpast. 


LESso:Nr  cxxxiii. 

TRUE    GLOKY    OF    A    NATION. 

BISHOP  WHIPPLE. 

THE  true  glory  of  a  nation  is  in  an  intelligent,  honest, 
industrious   Christian  people.      The  civilization   of  a 
people  depends  on  their  individual  character ;  and  a  con- 


CTNIOIT  FIFTH  READER.  413 

stitution  which  is  not  the  outgrowth  of  this  character,  is 
not  worth  the  parchment  on  which  it  is  written.  You  look 
in  vain  in  the  past  for  a  single  instance  where  the  people 
have  preserved  their  liberties  after  their  individual  charac- 
ter was  lost. 

2.  It  is  not  in  the  magnificence  of  its  palaces,  not  in  the 
beautiful  creations  of  art  lavished  on  its  pubhc  edifices,  not 
in  costly  libraries  and  galleries  of  pictures,  not  in  the 
number  or  wealth  of  its  cities,  that  we  find  pledges  of  a  na- 
tion's glory.  The  ruler  may  gather  around  him  the  treas- 
ures of  the  world,  amid  a  brutaHzed  people ;  the  senate- 
chamber  may  retain  its  faultless  proportions  long  after  the 
voice  of  patriotism  is  hushed  within  its  walls ;  the  monu- 
mental marble  may  commemorate,  a  glory  which  has  for- 
ever departed.  Art  and  letters  may  bring  no  lesson  to  a 
people  whose  heart  is  dead. 

3.  The  true  glory  of  a  nation  is  in  the  living  temple  of  a 
loyal^  industrious,  and  upright  people.  The  busy  click  of 
machinery,  the  merry  ring  of  the  anvil,  the  lowing  of 
peaceful  herds,  and  the  song  of  the  harvest-home,  are 
sweeter  music  than  paeans  of  departed  glory,  or  songs  of 
triumph  in  war.  The  vine-clad  cottage  of  the  hillside, 
the  cabin  of  the  woodsman,  and  the  rural  home  of  the 
farmer,  are  the  true  citadels  of  any  country.  There  is 
a  dignity  in  honest  toil,  which  belongs  not  to  the  display 
of  wealth  or  the  luxury  of  fashion.  The  man  who  drives 
the  plow,  or  swings  his  ax  in  the  forest,  or  with  cunning 
fingers  plies  the  tools  of  his  craft,  is  as  truly  the  servant  of 
his  country  as  the  statesman  in  tjie  senate  or  the  soldier 
in  battle. 

4.  The  safety  of  a  nation  depends  not  alone  on  the  wis- 
dom of  its  statesmen  or  the  bravery  of  its  generals.  The 
tongue  of  eloquence  never  saved  a  nation  tottering  to  its 


414  SANDERS'  CTNIOISr  SERIES. 

fall ;  the  sword  of  a  warrior  never  stayed  its  destruction. 
There  is  a  surer  defense  in  every  Cliristian  home.  I  know 
of  no  right  wrung  from  tyranny,  no  truth  resciled  from 
darkness  and  bigotry,  which  has  not  waited  on  a  Christian 
civilization. 

5.  Would  you  see  the  image  of  true  glory,  I  would  show 
you  villages  where  the  crown  and  glory  of  the  people  was 
in  Christian  schools,  where  the  voice  of  prayer  goes  heaven- 
ward, where  the  people  have  that  most  priceless  gift,  — 
faith  m  God»  With  this  as  the  basis,  and  leavened  as  it 
will  be  with  brotherly  love,  there  will  be  no  danger  in 
grappling  with  any  evils  which  exist  in  our  midst :  we 
shall  feel  that  we  may  work  and  bide  our  time,  and  die, 
knowing  that  God  will  bring  victory. 


LESSON    CXXXIY. 

*Dead  Sea  Fruits,  or  Apples  of  Sodom,  a  fruit  described'  by  ancient 
writers  as  externally  of  fair  appearance,  but  dissolving  into  smoke  and 
ashes  when  plucked.  It  resembles  an  orange  in  size  and  color,  but  ex- 
plodes on  being  touched.     It  has  a  bitt6r  taste. 

THE  BATTLE   OF  LIFE. 

ANNE  C.   LYNCH. 

1.  rpHERE  are  countless  fields,  the  green  earth  o'er, 
X      Where  the  verdant  turf  has  been  dyed  with  gore  . 
Where  hostile  ranks,  in  their  grim  array, 
With  the  battle's  smoke  have  obscured  the  day ; 
Where  hate  was  stamped  on  each  rigid  face, 
As  foe  met  foe  in  the  death-embrace ; 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  415 

Where  the  groans  of  the  wounded  and  dying  rose 

Till  the  heart  of  the  listener  with  horror  froze ; 

And  the  wide  expanse  of  crimsoned  plain 

Was  j)iled  with  heaps  of  uncounted  slain : 

But  a  fiercer  combat^  a  deadlier  strife^ 

Is  that  which  is  waged  in  the  Battle  of  Life. 

The  hero  that  wars  on  the  tented  field, 
With  his  shining  sword  and  his  burnished  shield, 
Goes  7iot  alone  with  his  faithful  brand,  — 
Friends  and  comrades  around  him  stand ; 
The  trumpets  sound,  and  the  war-steeds  neigh 
To  join  in  the  shock  of  the  coming  fray ; 
And  he  flies  to  the  onset,  he  charges  the  foe. 
Where  the  bayonets  gleam  and  the  red  tides  flow ; 
And  he  beai*s  his  part  in  that  conflict  dire 
With  an  arm  all  nerve  and  a  heart  all  fire. 

What  though  he  fall  ?     At  the  battle's  close, 
In  the  flush  of  victory  won,  he  goes 
With  martial  music,  and  waving  plume. 
From  a  field  of  fame  to  a  laureled  tomb ! 
But  the  hero  that  wars  in  the  Battle  of  Life 
Must  stand  alone  in  the  fearful  strife, — 
Alone  in  his  weakness  or  strength  must  go. 
Hero  or  coward,  to  meet  the  foe : 
He  may  not  fly ;  on  that  fatal  field 
He  must  win  or  lose,  he  must  conquer  or  yield. 

Warrior,  who  com'st  to  this  battle  now 
With  a  careless  step  and  a  thoughtless  brow, 
As  if  the  day  were  already  won. 
Pause,  and  gird  all  thy  armor  on  ! 


416  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

Dost  tilou  brin<r  with  thee  hither  a  dauntless  will. 
An  ardent  soul  that  no  fear  can  chilF  ? 
Thy  shield  of  Faith  hast  thou  tried  and  proved'  ? 
Canst  thou  say  to  the  mountain,  "Be  thou  removed'"? 
In  thy  hand  does  the  sword  of  Truth  flame  bright'  ? 
Is  thy  banner  inscribed  "  for  God  and  the  Right' "  ? 
In  the  might  of  prayer  dost  thou  wrestle  and  plead'? 
Never  had  warrior  greater  need ! 


5.  Unseen  foes  in  thy  pathway  hide  ; 
Thou  art  encompassed  on  every  side : 
There  Pleasure  waits  with  her  siren  train, 
Her  poison  flowers  and  her  hidden  chain ; 
Flattery  courts  with  her  hollow  smiles, 
Passion  with  silvery  tongue  beguiles. 

Love  and  Friendship  their  charmed  spells  weave : 
Trust  not  too  deeply  ;  they  may  deceive  ! 

6.  Hope  with  her  Dead  Sea  fruits'  is  there; 
Sin  is  spreading  her  gilded  snare  ; 
Disease  with  a  mthless  hand  would  smite, 
And  Care  spread  o'er  thee  her  withering  blight ; 
Hate  and  Envy  with  visage  black, 

And  the  serpent  Slander,  are  on  thy  track ; 
Falsehood  and  Guilt,  Remorse  and  Pride, 
Doubt  and  Despair,  in  thy  pathway  glide  ; 
Haggard  Want,  in  her  demon  joy, 
Waits  to  degrade  thee,  and  then  destroy ; 
And  Death,  the  insatiate,  is  hovering  near 
To  snatch  from  thy  grasp  all  thou  boldest  dear. 

7.  In  war  with  these  phantoms  that  gird  thee  round. 
No  hmbs  dissevered  may  strew  the  ground ; 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  417 

No  blood  may  flow,  and  no  mortal  ear 

The  groans  of  the  wounded  heart  may  hear, 

As  it  strusirles  and  writhes  in  their  dread  control, 

As  the  iron  enters  the  riven  soul. 

But  the  youthful  form  grows  wasted  and  weak, 

And  sunken  and  wan  is  the  rounded  cheek ; 

The  brow  is  furrowed,  but  not  with  years  ; 

The  eye  is  dimmed  with  its  secret  tears  ; 

And  streaked  with  white  is  the  raven  hair,  — 

These  are  the  tokens  of  conflict  there. 

The  battle  is  ended :  tlie  hero  goes 

Worn  and  scarred  to  his  last  repose. 

He  has  won  the  day,  he  lias  conquered  doom, 

He  has  sunk  unknown  to  his  nameless  tomb. 

For  the  victor's  glory  no  voice  may  plead. 

Fame  has  no  echo,  and  earth  no  meed. 

But  the  guardian  angels  are  hovering  near  ; 

They  have  watched  unseen  o'er  the  conflict  here : 

They  bear  him  now  on  their  wings  away 

To  a  realm  of  peace,  to  a  cloudless  day. 

Ended  now  is  his  earthly  strife. 

And  his  brow  is  crowned  with  the  Crown  of  Life ! 


•    '  LESSON    CXXXY. 
THE   HISTORIAN'S  REFLECTIONS. 

BLAKE. 

rPHROUGH  the  long  period  of  five  thousand  years,  the 
A.    eye  of  the  historian  wanders  among  innumerable  mill- 
ions, and  descries   peoples,  nations,  and   languages,  who 
27 


418  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

were  once  active  in  the  busy  scenes  of  time,  but  are  now 
reaping  the  retributions  of  eternity.  The  great  nations 
which  enjoyed  universal  empire,  are  now  silent  in  the 
dust.  And,  as  objects  subtend  a  less  angle  in  proportion 
to  their  distance,  so  a  century,  buried  deep  m  the  vale  of 
antiquity,  appears  but  as  an  hour,  and  the  duration  of  a 
nation  but  as  a  day. 

2.  In  the  morning  its  infancy  is  weak,  and  its  chief  de- 
fense is  in  its  obscurity  or  insignificance,  or  in  the  weak- 
ness of  others.  It  gathers  strength  by  adversity,  and  at 
length  acquires  a  vigorous  youth.  At  mid-day  it  acquires 
a  strong  and  lofty  attitude  ;  it  basks  for  an  hour  in  the 
beams  of  prosperity,  and  drinks  deep  the  inebriating 
draughty  of  luxury  and  pleasure.  And  now  its  beauty 
fades,  its  strength  decays,  its  glory  perishes,  and  the  de- 
clining day  hastens  a  night  of  storms,  and  clouds,  and 
everlasting  darkness. 

3.  The  nations  of  men  resemble  the  perpetually  rolling 
and  conflicting  waves  of  the  ocean.  If  a  billow  rise  high, 
it  is  but  to  sink  as  low ;  if  it  dash  its  neighboring  billow,  it 
is  but  to  be  dashed  in  its  turn ;  if  it  rage  and  foam,  it  is 
but  to  exhaust  itself  the  sooner ;  if  it  roll  tranquilly  on  the 
bosom  of  the  deep,  it  is  but  to  sink  forever  by  its  own 
gravity.  It  is  thus  with  all  nations,  with  all  human  insti- 
tutions, and  with  all  the  noblest  inventions  and  works  of 
art. 

"  The  cloud-capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherits,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
Leave  not  a  wreck  behind." 

4.  And  alas !  the  ravages  of  time,  though  rapid  and  re- 
sistless, are  too  slow  to  satisfy  the  furious  rage  of  restless 


UNION   FIFTH  READER.  419 

mortals !  They  must  share  tlie  empire  of  destruction. 
To  them  the  work  of  deatli  is  most  pleasant ;  and  to  culti- 
vate the  art  of  killing  and  destroying  has  been  their  chief 
pride  and  glory  in  all  ages,  though,  while  employed  in  that 
dreadful  work,  they  sink  in  destruction  themselves.  Un- 
happy chiklren  of  men !  When  will  you  learn  to  know 
and  prize  your  true  interest?  When  will  you  be  con- 
vinced of  that,  than  which  nothing  is  more  certain,  that 
war  adds  infinitely  to  the  number  and  weight  of  your 
cala'mities  ?  that  it  fills  the  world  with  misery,  and  clothes 
all  nature  in  mourning  ? 

5.  Shall  brotherly  love  and  cordial  affection  never  be- 
come universal,  and  Peace  never  wave  her  white  banner 
throughout  the  earth'?  Is  there  no  durable  institution, 
founded  in  virtue,  and  permanent  as  the  eternal  rules  of 
justice'  ?  Is  there  no  firm  ground  of  hope  ?  no  rock,  on 
which  truth  and  reason  may  build  a  fabric  that  shall  never 
fair?  Yes  ;  there  is  a  kingdom  :  its  foundations"  were  laid 
of  old;  its  King  is  the  God. of  Heaven;  its  law  is  perfect 
love ;  its  dominions  are  wide,  for  they  extend  to  the  wise 
and  virtuous  in  all  woi'lds  ;  all  its  subjects  are  safe,  for  they 
are  defended  by  almighty  power ;  and  they  shall  rise  to 
eternal  prosperity  and  glory,  when  all  earthly  kingdoms 
shall  vanish  like  a  shadow  or  a  dream.  .     * 

6.  There  is  an  unseen  Hand  which  guides  the  affairs  of 
nations.  Throughout  all  their  chanojes  and  revolutions, 
through  the  seemingly  dark  and  troubled  chaos  of  human 
concerns,  an  almighty  Providence  overrules ;  and  all  events, 
past,  present,  and  to  come,  are  employed  in  directing  and 
completing  the  destinies  of  all  creatures,  in  subserviency 
to  that  infinitely  great  and  glorious  kingdom  which  shall 
never  be  removed. 


420  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 


LESSON    CXXXVI. 

*  How'  ARI>.     See  note,  page  108. 

*  Fry,  Mrs.  Elizabeth,  whose  maiden  name  Avas  Gurney,  was  bom  at 

Earlham,  England,  in  1780,  and  died  1844.  The  benevolence  of  her 
disposition  early  displayed  itself  by  visiting  the  poor,  and  establishing 
schools  for  the  education  of  their  children.  Every  day  she  was  found 
visiting  charity-schools,  in  the  houses  and  lanes  of  the  poor,  and  in  the 
wards  of  sick-hospitals.  She  also  extended  her  benevolent  attentions 
to  the  inmates  of  prisons  and  lunatic-asylums.  She  visited  all  the  prin- 
cipal jails  in  Scotland,  Ireland,  France,  Holland,  Denmark,  and  Prus- 
sia; and  her  last  scheme  of  philanthropy  was  begun  with  a  \icr\v  to 
benefit  British  seamen.  Her  death  was  lamented  throughout  Europe 
as  a  loss  to  humanity. 

TRUE   REFORMERS. 

HORACE  GREELEY. 

TO  the  rightly  constituted  mind,  to  the  truly  developed 
man,  there  always  is,  there  always  must  be,  opportu- 
nity, —  opportunity  to  be  and  to  learn,  nobly  to  do  and  to 
endure ;  and  what  matter  whether  with  pomp  and  eclat., 
with  sound  of  trumpets  and  shout  of  applauding  thousands, 
or  in  silence  and  seclusion,  beneath  the  calm,  disceniinggaze 
of  Heaven  ?  No  station  can  be  humble  on  which  that  gaze 
is  approvingly  bent ;  no  work  can  be  ignoble  which  is  per- 
formed uprightly,  and  not  impelled  by  sordid  and  selfish  aims. 
2.  Not  from  among  the  children  of  monarchs,  ushered 
into  being  with  boom  of  cannon,  and  shouts  of  reveling 
millions,  but  from  amid  the  sons  of  obscurity  and  toil, 
cradled  in  peril  and  ignominy,  from  the  bulrushes  and  the 
manger,  come  forth  the  benefactors  and  saviors  of  man- 
kind. So,  when  all  the  babble  and  glare  of  our  age  shall 
have  passed  into  a  fitting  oblivion ;  when  those  who  have 
enjoyed  rare  opportunities,  and  swayed  vast  empires,  and 
heen  borne  through  life  on  the  shoulders  of  shouting  mul- 
titudes, shall  have  been  laid  at  last  to  rest  in  golden  coffins. 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  421 

to  molder  forgotten,  the  stately  marble  their  only  monu- 
ments, it  will  be  found  that  some  humble  youth,  who 
neither  inherited  nor  found,  but  hewed  out  his  opportuni- 
ties^ has  uttered  the  thought  which  shall  render  the  age 
memorable,  by  extending  the  means  of  enlightenment  and 
blessing  to  our  race. 

3.  The  great  struggle  for  human  progress  and  elevation 
proceeds  noiselessly,  often  unnoted,  often  checked,  and  ap- 
parently baffled,  amid  the  clamorous  and  debasing  strifes 
impelled  by  greedy  selfishness  and  low  ambition.  In  that 
struggle,  maintained  by  the  wise  and  good  of  all  parties, 
all  creeds,  all  climes,  bear  ye  the  part  of  men.  Heed  the 
lofty  summons,  and,  with  souls  serene  and  constant,  pre- 
pare to  tread  boldly  in  the  path  of  highest  duty.  So  shall 
life  be  to  you  truly  exalted  and  heroic ;  so  shall  death  be  a 
transition  neither  sought  nor  dreaded ;  so  shall  your  mem- 
ory, though  cherished  at  first  but  by  a  few  humble,  loving 
hearts,  linger  long  and  gratefully  in  human  remembrance, 
a  watchword  to  the  truthful,  and  an  incitement  to  gener- 
ous endeavor,  freshened  by  the  proud  tears  of  admiring 
affection,  and  fragrant  with  the  odors  of  heaven !  .  .  . 

4.  We  need  a  loftier  ideal  to  nerve  us  for  heroic  lives. 
To  know  and  feel  our  nothingness,  without  regretting  it ; 
to  deem  fame,  riches,  personal  happiness,  but  shadows,  of 
which  human  good  is  the  substance  ;  to  welcome  pain, 
privation,  ignominy,  so  that  the  sphere  of  human  knowl- 
edge, the  empire  of  virtue,  be  thereby  extended,  —  such  is 
the  soul's  temper  in  which  the  heroes  of  the  coming  age 
shall  be  cast.  When  the  stately  monuments  of  mightiest 
conquerors  shall  have  become  shapeless  and  forgotten  ruins, 
the  humble  graves  of  earth's  Howards^  and  Frys^  shall  still 
be  freshened  by  the  tears  of  fondly  admiring  millions,  and 
the  proudest  epitaph  shall  be  the  simple  entreaty,  — 

'*  Write  me  as  one  who  loved  his  fellow-men." 


422  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

5.  Say  not  that  I  thus  condemn,  and  would  annihilate, 
ambition.  The  love  of  approbation,  of  esteem,  of  true 
glory,  is  a  noble  incentive,  and  should  be  cherished  to  the 
end.  True  fame  demands  no  sacrifices  of  others ;  it  re- 
quires us  to  be  reckless  of  the  outward  well-being  of  but 
one.  It  exacts  no  hecatomb  of  victims  for  each  triumphal 
pile  ;  for  tlie  more  who  covet  and  seek  it,  the  easier  and 
more  abundant  is  the  success  of  each  and  all.  With  souls 
of  the  celestial  temper,  each  human  life  might  be  a  triumph 
which  angels  would  lean  from  the  skies,  delighted  to  wit- 
ness and  admire. 


LESSON    CXXXYII. 

*Fred'er  ick  it.,  King  of  Prussia,  commonly  called  Frederick  the  Great, 
was  born  Jan.  24,  1712,  and  began  to  reign  1740.  He  found  himself 
in  possession  of  a  full  treasury  and  a  powerful  army,  which  he  soon 
employed  in  attacking  Austria-,  and  conquering  from  her  the  province 
of  Silesia.  The  great  struggle  of  the  Seven- Years'  War  was  begun  in 
1756.  Prussia  was  now  attacked  by  Austria,  Russia,  France,  Saxony, 
and  Sweden  ;  and  her  destruction  and  dismemberment  seemed  inevita- 
ble. England  was  her  only  ally.  Prussia  went  through  the  struggle, 
and  came  out  triumphant.  For  this  glorious  result,  she  was  indebted  to 
the  moral  courage,  indomitable  energy,  and  military  genius,  of  her  king 
In  1772,  Frederick  disgraced  himself,  and  permanently  injured  the  cause 
of  Freedom  throughout  the  world,  by  participating  in  the  first  dismem- 
berment of  Poland.     Frederick  died  Aug.  17,  1786. 

*MoNT  E  zu'  MA,  Emperor  of  Mexico  at  the  time  of  the  Spanish  invasion. 

UNJUST  NATIONAL   ACQUISITIONS. 

THOMAS  CORWIN. 

MR.  PRESIDENT,  — The  uneasy  desire  to  augment 
our  territory  has  depraved  tlie  moral  sense,  and 
blighted  the  otherwise  keen  sagacity,  of  our  people.  Sad, 
very  sad,  are  the  lessons  which  Time  has  written  for  us. 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  423 

Through  and  in  them  all,  I  see  nothing  but  the  inflexible 
execution  of  that  old  law,  which  ordains,  as  eternal,  the 
cardinal  rule,  "  Thou  shalt  not  covet  thy  neighbor's  goods, 
nor  any  thing  which  is  his."  Since  I  have  lately  heard  so 
much  about  the  dismemberment  of  Mexico,  I  have  looked 
back  to  see  how,  in  the  course  of  events  which  some  call 
"  Providence,"  it  has  fared  with  other  nations  who  engaged 
in  this  work  of  dismemberment. 

2.  I  see  that,  in  the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, three  powerful  nations  —  Russia,  Austria,  and  Prus- 
sia—  united  in  the  dismemberment  of  Poland.  They  said, 
too,  as  you  say,  —  '^  It  is  our  destiny."  They  *' wanted 
room."  Doubtless  each  of  these  thought,  with  his  share 
of  Poland,  his  power  was  too  strong  ever  to  fear  invasion, 
or  even  insult.  One  had  his  California,  another  his  New 
Mexico,  and  the  third  his  Vera  Cruz.* 

3.  Did  they  remain  untouched,  and  incapable  of  harm  ? 
Alas  !  no  ;  far,  very  far,  from  it.  Retributive  justice  must 
fulfill  its  destiny  too.  A  very  few  years  pass  off,  and  we 
hear  of  a  new  man,  a  Corsican  lieutenant,  the  self-named, 
''armed  soldier  of  Democracy,"  Napoleon.  He  ravages 
Austria,  covers  her  land  with  blood,  drives  the  Northern 
Caesar  from  his  capital,  and  sleeps  in  his  palace.  Austria 
may  now  remember  how  her  power  trampled  upon  Poland. 
Did  she  not  pay  dear,  very  dear,  for  her  California'  ? 

4.  But  has  Prussia  no  atonement  to  make  ?  You  see 
this  same  Napoleon,  the  blind  instrument  of  providence, 
at  work  there.  The  thunders  of  his  cannon  at  Jenaf  pro- 
claim the  work  of  retribution  for  Poland's  wron^rs ;  and 
the  successors  of  the  Great  Frederick,^  the  drill-serireant 
of  Europe,  are  seen  flying  across  the  sandy  plains  that  sur- 

*  Pronounced  Va'  ra  kroos.  t  Gen'  a. 


424  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

round  their  capital,  right  gjad  if  they  may  escape  captivity 
or  death. 

5.  But  how  fares  it  with  the  Autocrat  of  Russia  ?  Is  he 
secure  in  his  share  of  the  spoils  of  Poland'  ?  No :  sud- 
denly we  see  six  hundred  thousand  armed  men  marching 
to  Moscow.  Does  his  Vera  Cruz  protect  liim  now'  ?  Far 
from  it.  Blood,  slaughter,  devastation,  spread  abroad  over 
the  land ;  and,  finally,  the  conflagration  of  the  old  com- 
mercial metropolis  of  Russia  closes  the  retribution :  she 
must  pay  for  her  share  in  the  dismemberment  of  her  im- 
potent neighbor. 

6.  A  mind  more  prone  to  look  for  the  judgments  of 
Heaven  in  the  doings  of  men  than  mine,  can  not  fail,  in  all 
unjust  acquisitions  of  territory,  to  see  the  Providence  of 
God.  When  Moscow  burned,  it  seemed  as  if  the  earth 
was  lighted  up,  that  the  nations  might  behold  the  scene. 
As  that  mighty  sea  of  fire  gathered  and  heaved  and  rolled 
upward,  and  yet  higher,  till  its  flames  licked  the  stars,  and 
fired  the  whole  heavens,  it  did  seem  as  though  the  God  of 
nations  was  writing,  in  characters  of  flame,  on  the  front 
of  His  throne,  that  doom  that*  shall  fall  upon  the  strong 
nation  which  tramples  in  scorn  upon  the  weak. 

7.  And  what  fortune  awaits  him,  the  appointed  executor 
of  this  work,  when  it  was  all  done  ?  He,  too,  conceived 
the  notion  that  his  destiny  pointed  onward  to  universal 
dominion.  France  was  too  small :  Europe,  he  thought, 
should  bow  down  before  him.  But  as  soon  as  this  idea 
takes  possession  of  his  soul,  he,  too,  becomes  powerless. 
Right  there,  while  he  witnessed-  the  humiliation,  and 
doubtless  meditated  the  subjugation,  of  Russia,  He  who 
holds  the  winds  in  His  fist,  gathered  the  snows  of  the 
North,  and  blew  them  upon  his  six  hundred  thousand  men. 
They  fled,  —  they  froze,  —  they  perished. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  425 

8.  And  now  the  miglity  Napoleon,  who  had  resolved  on 
universal  dominion,  he^  too,  is  summoned  to  answer  for  the 
violation  of  that  ancient  law,  "  Thou  shalt  not  covet  any 
thing  which  is  thy  neighbor's."  "  How  are  the  miglity 
fallen  ! "  He,  beneath  whose  proud  footstep  Europe  trem- 
bled, is  now  an  exile  at  Elba,  and  now,  finally,  a  pris- 
oner on  the  rock  of  St.  Helena ;  and  there,  on  a  barren 
island,  in  an  unfrequented  sea,  in  the  crater  of  an  extin- 
guished volcano,  —  there  is  the  death-bed  of  the  mighty 
conqueror.  All  his  annexations  have  come  to  that !  His 
last  hour  has  now  come ;  and  he^  the  man  of  destiny,  he 
who  had  rocked  the  world  as  with  the  throes  of  an  earth- 
quake, is  now  powerless,  still,  —  even  as  the  beggar,  so  he 
died. 

9.  On  the  wings  of  a  tempest  that  raged  with  unwonted 
fury,  up  to  the  throne  of  the  only  Power  that  controlled 
him  while  he  lived,  went  the  fiery  soul  of  that  wonderful 
warrior,  another  witness  to  the  existence  of  that  eternal 
decree,  that  they  who  do  not  rule  in  righteousness  shall  per- 
ish from  the  earth.  He  has  found  *' room"  at  last.  And 
France  —  s7ie,  too,  has  found  "room."  Her  "eagles"  now 
no  longer  scream  along  the  banks  of  the  Danube,  the 
Po,  and  the  Borys'thenes.  They  have  returned  home,  to 
their  old  aerie,  between  the  Alps,  the  Khine,  and  the 
Pyrenees. 

10.  So  shall  it  be  with  yours.  You  may  carry  them 
to  the  loftiest  peaks  of  the  Cordilleras  ;  they  may  wave, 
with  insolent  triumph,  in  the  halls  of  the  Montezumas,'^  — 
the  armed  men  of  Mexico  may  quail  before  them :  but  the 
weakest  hand  in  Mexico,  uplifted  in  prayer  to  the  God  of 
justice,  may  call  down  against  you  a  Power,  in  the  presence 
of  which  the  iron  hearts  of  your  warriors  shall  be  turned 
into  ashes. 


426  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

LESSON    CXXXVIII. 

VANITY  OF  EARTHLY   TREASURES. 

ANON. 

1.  "[/"NEEL  not,  O  friend  of  mine  !  before  a  shrine 
JLV     That  bears  the  impress  of  humanity ; 
Have  thou  no  idol,  lest  those  hopes  of  thine 

Prove  but  false  lights  upon  a  treacherous  sea. 
Know'st  thou  that  clouds  freighted  with  storm  and  rain 
Will  overspread  with  darkest  gloom  again 

Yon  azure  sky'? 
Know'st  thou  that  rose  that  blooms  beside  thy  door 
.  Will  waste  upon  the  gale  its^  fragrant  store, 
I  And  fade  and  die'  ? 

Know  also  that  the  loved  and  tried  for  years. 
The  cynosure  of  all  thy  hopes  and  fears, 
May  pass  thee  by. 

2.  Maiden  !  upon  whose  fair,  unclouded  brow, 

Half  hid  by  many  a  curl  of  clustering  hair, 
I  mark  the  buds  of  promise  bursting  now, 

Unmingled  with  a  thouglit  of  future  care,  — • 
Thou  for  whose  sake  the  bridal  wreath  is  made. 
For  Avhom  the  rose,  in  spotless  white  arrayed. 

Expands  its  leaf,  — 
Oh !  let  me  teach  thee,  as  a  sister  may, 
A  lesson  thou  shouldst  bear  in  mind  alway,  — 

That  life  is  brief; 
That  bridal  flowers  have  decked  the  silent  bier, 
And  smiles  of  joy  been  melted  with  the  tear 

Of  burning  grief. 


UNION  FIFTH   EEADtlR.        ^  427 

3    Mother  !  who  gazes  with  a  mother's  joy, 

And  all  a  mother's  changeless  love  and  pride, 
Upon  the  noble  forehead  of  thy  boy, 

Who  stands  in  childish  beauty  by  thy  side, 
And,  gazing  through  the  mists  of  coming  time, 
Beholds  him  standing  in  the  verdant  prime 

Of  manhood's  day,  — 
I  warn  thee  !  build  no  castles  in  the  air : 
That  form,  so  full  of  life,  so  matchless  fair, 

Is  only  clay ; 
That  bud,  just  bursting  to  a  perfect  flower. 
May,  like  the  treasures  of  thy  garden  bower, 
Soon  pass  away. 

4.  Father  !  whose  days,  though  in  "  the  yellow  leaf," 
Have  golden  tints  from  life's  rich  sunset  thrown ; 
Whose  heart,  a  stranger  to  the  pangs  of  grief,         • 

Still  suns  itself  within  the  loves  of  home ; 
Who,  with  thy  dear  companion  by  thy  side. 
Hast  felt  thy  bark  adown  life's  current  glide 

With  peaceful  breeze,  — 
Burn  thou  no  incense  here !  hast  thou  not  seen 
The  forest  change  its  summer  robe  of  green 

For  leafless  trees'  ? 
Believe  me,  all  who  breathe  the  vital  breath 
Are  subjects  to  the  laws  of  life  and  death  ; 
.  And  so  are  these. 

5    Ah,  yes  !  beneath  the  church-yard's  grassy  mound 
Too  many  an  early-smitten  idol  lies, 
Too  many  a  star  of  promise  has  gone  down 
The  soul's  horizon,  never  more  to  rise. 


428  ^       SANDEKS'  UNION   SERIES. 

For  thou  to  safely  rear  thy  temple  here. 

And  fancy,  while  the  storm-cloud  hovers  near. 

It  stands  secure. 
Oh  !  trust  it  not ;  that  flash  of  brilliant  light 
Will  only  from  the  thorny  path  of  night 

Thy  steps  aUure ; 
One  Arm,  that  never  fails,  that  never  tires. 
That  moves  in  harmony  the  heavenly  choirs, 

Alone  is  sure. 

6.  Be  this  thy  spirit's  anchor,  —  that  when  all 

Most  near  and  dear  to  thee  shall  pass  away, 
When  pride,  and  power,  and  human  hope,  shall  fall, 

A  faith  in  God  shall  be  thy  shield  and  stiiy. 
Lay  up  thy  treasures  where  the  hand  of  Time, 
The  storms  and  changes  of  this  fickle  clime, 

Shall  seek  in  vain  ; 
•Where  the  bright  dreams  of  youth  shall  know  no  blight, 
The  days  of  love  and  joy  no  starless  night, 

And  life  no  pain  ; 
And  where  thou  yet  shalt  find,  when  cares  are  o'er. 
The  loved  and  lost  ones  who  have  gone  before 
Are  thine  again. 


w 


LESSON    CXXXIX. 

CHOICE     EXTRACTS. 

I. 

THE   WIDOW'S   TWO   MITES. 

WEBSTER. 

HAT  more  tender,  more  solemnly  affecting,  more 
profoundly  pathetic,  than  this  charity,  —  this  offer- 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  429 

ing  to  God  of  a  farthing  I  We  know  nothing  of  her 
name,  her  family,  or  lier  tribe.  We  only  know  that  she 
was  a  poor  woman,  and  a  widow,  of  whom  there  is  nothing 
left  upon  record  but  this  sublimely  simple  story ;  that, 
when  the  rich  men  came  to  cast  their  proud  offerings  into 
the  treasury,  this  poor  woman  came  also,  and  cast  in  her 
two  mites,  which  made  a  farthing. 

2.  And  the  example,  thus  made  the  subject  of  Divine 
commendation,  has  been  read,  and  told,  and  has  gone 
abroad  everywhere,  and  sunk  deep  into  a  hundred  million 
of  hearts,  since  the  commencement  of  the  Christian  era, 
and  has  done  more  good  than  could  be  accomplished  by  a 
thousand  marble  palaces ;  because  it  was  charity  mingled 
with  true  benevolence^  given  in  the  fear,  the  love,  the  ser- 
vice, and  the  honor  of  God. 

THE  HONEY-BEE. 

The  honey-bee  that  wanders  all  day  long 
The  field,  the  woodland,  and  the  garden  o'er, 
To  gather  in  his  fragrant  winter-store, 
Humming  in  calm  content  his  quiet  song, 
Sucks  not  alone  the  rose's  glowing  breast, 
The  lily's  dainty  cup,  the  violet's  lips  ; 
But  from  all  rank  and  noisome  weeds  he  sips 
The  single  drop  of  sweetness  ever  pressed 
Within  the  poison  chalice.     Thus,  if  we 
Seek  only  to  draw  forth  the  hidden  sweet 
In  all  the  varied  human  flowers  we  meet 
In  the  wide  garden  of  Humanity, 
And,  like  the  bee,  if  home  the  spoil  we  bear,  ' 
Hived  in  our  hearts,  it  turns  to  nectar  there. 


430  SANDEKS'  UNION   SEKIES. 

III. 
VIRTUE. 

COLTON. 

1.  There  are  two  things  which  speak  as  with  a  voice 
from  Hea^^ll,  that  He  who  fills  the  eternal  throne  must 
be  on  the  side  of  Virtue ;  and  that  which  He  befriends 
must  finally  prosper  and  prevail.  The  first  is,  that  the 
Bad  are  never  completely  happy  and  at  ease,  although 
possessed  of  every  thing  that  this  world  can  bestow ;  and 
that  the  Good  are  never  completely  miserable,  although 
deprived  of  every  thing  this  world  can  take  away. 

2.  We  are  so  framed  and  constituted,  that  the  most 
vicious  can  not  but  pay  a  secret  though  unwilling  homage 
to  Virtue,  inasmuch  as  the  worst  men  can  not  bring  them- 
selves thoroughly  to  esteem  a  had  man,  although  he  may 
be  their  dearest  friend  ;  nor  can  they  thoroughly  despise  a 
good  man,  although  he  may  be  their  bitter  enemy.  From 
this  inward  esteem  for  Virtue,  which  the  noblest  cherish, 
and  which  the  basest  can  not  expel,  it  follows  that  Virtue 
is  tlTe  only  bond  of  union  on  which  we  can  thoroughly 
depend. 

IV. 

HAPPINESS. 

POPE. 

O  Happiness  I  our  being's  end  and  aim, — 

Good,  Pleasure,  Ease,  Content,  —  whate'er  thy  name  ; 

That  something  still  which  prompts  the  eternal  sigh  ; 

For  which  we  bear  to  live,  or  dare  to  die  ; 

Which  still  so  near  us,  yet  beyond  us,  lies, 

O'erlooked,  seen  double,  by  the  fool  and  wise,  — 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  431 

Plant  of  celestial  seed  !  if  dropped  below, 

Say  in  what  mortal  soil  thou  deign'st  to  grow  ? 

Know,  all  the  good  that  individuals  find, 

Or  God  and  Nature  meant  to  mere  mankind, 

Reason's  whole  pleasure,  all  the  joys  of  sense, 

Lie  in  three  words,  —  Health,  Peace,  and  Competence: 

But  Health  consists  with  Temperance  alone ; 

And  Peace,  O  Virtue  !  Peace  is  all  thy  own. 

V. 

ADVANCE   OF   SCIENCE. 

1.  Bacon's  prophecies  of  the  advance  of  Science  have 
been  fulfilled  far  beyond  what  even  he  could  have  antici- 
patea.  For  Knowledge  partakes  of  Infinity.  It  widens 
with  our  capacities ;  the  higher  we  mount  in  it,  the  vaster 
and  more  magnificent  are  the  prospects  it  stretches  out 
before  us.  Nor  are  we  in  these  days,  as  men  are  ever  apt 
to  imagine  of  their  own  times,  approaching  to  the  end  of 
them ;  nor  shall  we  be  nearer  the  end  a  thousand  years 
hence  than  we  are  now. 

2.  The  family  of  Sciences  has  multiplied  :  new  sciences, 
hitherto  minamed,  unthonght  of,  have  arisen.  The  seed 
which  Bacon  sowed  sprang  up,  and  grew  to  be  a  mighty 
tree  ;  and  the  thoughts  of  thousands  of  men  came  and 
lodged  in  its  branches ;  and  those  branches  spread  ''  so 
broad  and  long,  that  in  the  ground  the  bended  twigs  took 
root,  and  daughters  grew  about  the  mother-tree,  a  pillared 
shade  high  overarched,  and  echoing  walks  between,"  — 
walks  where  Poetry  may  wander,  and  wreathe  her  blossoms 
around  the  massy  stems ;  and  where  Rejigion  may  hymn 
the  praises  of  that  Wisdom  of  which  Science  erects  tlie 
hundred-aisled  Temple. 


432  SANDEllS'  UNION   SERIES. 

VI. 

THE   STRUGGLE   OF  LIFE. 


Ah  !  who  can  tell  how  hard  it  is  to  climb 
The  steep  where  Fame's  proud  temj)le  shines  afar  ? 
Ah  !  who  can  tell  how  many  a  soul  sublime 
Has  felt  the  influence  of  malignant  star, 
And  waged  with  Fortune  an  eternal  war? 
Checked  by  the  scoff  of  Pride,  by  Envy's  frown, 
And  Poverty's  unconquerable  bar. 
In  Life's  low  vale  remote  has  pined  alone. 
Then  dropped  into  the  grave,  unpitied  and  unknown  I 

VII. 
ANTIQUITY. 

COLTON. 

It  has  been  observed,  that  a  dwarf  standing  on  the 
shoulders  of  a  giant  will  see  farther  than  the  giant  him- 
self;  and  the  moderns,  standing  as  they  do  on  the  vantage- 
ground  of  former  discoveries,  and  uniting  all  the  fruits  of 
the  experience  of  their  forefathers  with  their  own  actual 
observation,  may  be  admitted  to  enjoy  a  more  enlarged 
and  comprehensive  view  of  things  than  the  ancients  them- 
selves ;  for  that  alone  is  true  antiquity  which  embraces  the 
antiquity  of  the  world,  and  not  that  which  would  refer  us 
back  to  a  period  when  the  world  was  young.  But  by  whom 
is  true  antiquity  enjoyed  ?  Not  by  the  ancients  who  did 
live  in  the  infancy,  but  by  the  moderns  who  do  live  in  the 
maturity  of  things. 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  433 

VIII. 

BEAUTY. 

SHAKSPKARE. 

1.  Beauty  is  but  a  vain  and  doubtful  good, 

A  shining  glass  that  fadeth  suddenly, 
A  flower  that  dies  when  first  it  'gins  to  bud^ 

A  brittle  glass  that's  broken  presently ; 
A  doubtful  good,  a  gloss,  a  glass,  a  flower, 
Lost,  faded,  broken,  dead,  wdthin  an  hour. 

2.  And  as  good  lost  is  seld  or  never  found, 

As  fading  gloss  no  rubbing  will  refresh. 
As  flowers  dead  lie  withered  on  the  ground, 

As  broken  glass  no  cement  can  redress, 
So  Beauty,  blemished  once,  forever's  lost, 
In  spite  of  physic,  painting,  pain,  and  cost. 

IX. 

CUNNING  AND   DISCRETION. 

ADDISON. 

1.  Cunning  has  only  private,  selfish  aims,  and  sticks  at 
nothing  which  may  make  them  succeed.  Discretion  has 
large  and  extended  views,  and,  like  a  well-formed  eye, 
commands  a  whole  horizon.  Cunning  is  a  kind  of  short- 
sightedness, that  discovere  the  minutest  objects  which  are 
near  at  hand,  but  is  not  able  to  discern  things  at  a  dis- 
tance. Discretion,  the  more  it  is  discovered,  gives  a 
greater  authority  to  the  person  who  possesses  it.  Discre- 
tion is  the  perfection  of  reason,  and  a  guide  to  us  in  all 
the  duties  of  life. 

2.  Cunning  is  a  kind  of  instinct,  that  only  looks  out 
after  our  immediate  interest  and  welfare.  Discretion  is 
only  found  in  men  of  strong  sense  and  good  understand- 

u 


434  SANDEES'  UNION  SERIES. 

ings.  Cunning  is  often  to  be  met  with  in  Lrntes  them- 
selves, and  in  persons  who  are  but  the  fewest  removes  from 
them.  In  short,  cunning  is  only  the  mimic  of  discretion, 
and  may  pass  upon  weak  men,  in  the  same  manner  as  vi- 
vacity is  often  mistaken  for  wit,  and  gravity  for  wisdom. 

X. 

PROCRASTINATION. 

PERSIUS. 

Cor.    Unhappy  he  who  does  his  work  adjourn, 
And  to  to-morrow  would  the  search  delay : 
His  lazy  morrow  will  be  like  to-day. 

PerB.    But  is  one  day  of  ease  too  much  to  borrow' T 
Cor.    Yes,  sure  ;  for  yesterday  was  once  to-morrow  ; 
That  yesterday  is  gone,  and  nothing  gained  : 
And  all  thy  fruitless  days  will  tluis  be  drained  ; 
For  thou  hast  more  to-morrows  yet  to  ask. 
And  wilt  be  ever  to  begin  thy  task  ; 
Who,  like  the  hindmost  chariot-wheels,  art  cursed 
Still  to  be  near,  but  ne'er  to  reach,  the  first. 


LESSON    CXL. 

Pan' TO  MIME,  an  actor  who  expresses  his  meaning  by  mute  action,  or 
gesticulation  only,  without  speaking;  a  dumb  show.'  It  here  means  a 
silent  exhibition  of  Nature. 

ALL  NATURE  SPEAKS   OF   A   SPIRIT-WORLD. 


1.  TTEARD  ye  the  whisper  of  the  breeze, 
(j[?.)  xJL  As  soft  it  murmured  by, 
A  mid  the  shadowy  forest-trees'  ? 

It  tells,  with  meaning  sigh. 
Of  the  bowers  of  bliss  on  that  viewless  shore, 
Where  the  weaiy  spirit  sliall  sin  no  more ; 


.UNION   FIFTH  READER.  435 

2.  While  sweet  and  low  in  crystal  streams 

That  glitter  in  the  shade, 
The  music  of  an  angel's  dreams 

On  bubbling  keys  are  played ; 
And  their  echoes  breathe,  with  a  mystic  tone, 
Of  that  home  where  the  loved  and  the  lost  are  gone. 

3.  And  when,  at  evening's  silent  hour, 

We  stand  on  the  ocean's  shore, 
And  feel  the  soul-subduing  power 

Of  its  mysterious  roar, 
Tliere's  a  deep  voice  comes  from  its  pearly  caves, 
Of  that  land  of  peace  which  no  ocean  laves. 

4.  And  while  the  shadowy  vale  of  night 

Sleeps  on  the  mountain-side. 
And  brilliants  of  imfathomed  hVlit 

Begem  the  concave  wide. 
There's  a  spell,  a  power,  of  harmonious  love, 
That  is  beckoning  mute  to  the  realms  above. 

5.  And  Earth,  in  all  her  temples  wild 

Of  mountain,  rock,  and  dell. 
Speaks  with  maternal  accents  mild, 

Our  doubting  fears  to  quell, 
Of  another  shore,  and  a  brighter  sphere, 
Where  we  haste  on  the  wings  of  each  flying  year. 

6.  On  Nature's  bright  and  pictured  scroll, 

A  speaking  language  see  : 
A  pantomime^  the  seasons  roll, 

Of  glorious  imagery. 
That  reveal  a  life  in  this  fading  clay. 
That  shall  wake  again  to  a  brighter  day. 


436  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 


LESSON   CXLI. 

"HOW  MANIFOLD   ARE  THY  WORKS  I' 

MISS  A.  ARNOLD. 

1.   A  THOU,  in  whose  almighty  hand 
yj  The  earth's  foundations  firmly  stand, 

And  heavino;  oceans  rise  and  fall ! 
Thee,  the  Creator,  man  shall  fear, 
So  manifold  Thy  works  appear ! 

In  wisdom  hast  Thou  made  them  all. 


2.  The  heavens  are  Thine — stars  speak  Thy  praise, 
Point  with  a  thousand  trembling  rays 

The  pathway  where  Thy  feet  have  trod  I 
They  roll  along  the  deep  blue  arch, 
And  seem  in  their  eternal  march 

The  glittering  armies  of  our  God  I 

♦. 

3.  How  grand  the  ever-drifting  clouds ! 
How  beautiful  those  snowy  shrouds 

That  float  aloncr  'twixt  earth  and  heaven  I 
And  yet  how  fearful  in  their  wrath. 
When  lurid  lightnings  mark  their  path. 

And  they  by  tempest- winds  are  driven  I 

4.  But  when  Thy  hand  hath  hushed  the  storm, 
And  thrown  the  sunbeams,  bright  and  warm. 

Upon  the  tearful  earth  again. 
How  like  an  emblem  of  Thy  love 
The  bright-hued  rainbow  bends  above, 

And  spans  the  misty  vail  of  rain ! 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADER.  437 


LESSON   CXLII. 

*  Bear,  one  of  two  constellations  in  the  northern  hemisphere,  called  re- 

spectively the   Greater  and  Lesser  Bear, -or   Ursa  Major  and  Ursa 
Minor. 

*  O  Ri'  ON,  a  large  and  bright  constellation,  crossed  by  the  equinoctial  line. 

TIMES   AND   SEASONS. 

L.   H.  GRINDOX. 

WHILE,  to  the  poet  and  thoughtful  man,  the  changes 
of  times  and  seasons  are  in  the  highest  degree 
beautiful  and  suggestive,  even  to  the  most  indifferent  and 
selfish  they  are  surrounded  with  an  agreeable  interest. 
None  view  their  progress  without  regard,  however  little 
they  may  be  attracted  by  their  sweet  pictures  and  phe- 
nomena, or  moved  by  the  amenities  and  wisdom  of  their 
ministry.  This  is  because  the  changes  incidental  to  Nat- 
ure are,  on  the  one  hand,  a  kind  of  counterpart  or  image 
of  the  occurrences  and  vicissitudes  of  human  hfe ;  and  on 
the  other,  the  circumstances  by  which  its  business  and 
pleasures  are,  in  large  measure,  suggested  and  controlled. 

2.  The  consummation  of  the  old  year,  and  the  opening 
of  the  new,  brings  with  it,  accordingly,  a  fine  significance, 
and  a  pleasurable  importance.  So,  in  their  degree,  the 
transitions  of  winter  into  spring,  of  spring  into  summer, 
of  summer  into  autumn  ;  and  so,  in  their  degree,  the 
alternations  of  day  and  night.  The  longer  the  interval, 
the  more  interesting  is  the  change. 

3.  The  close  of  the  gear  occupies  the  foremost  place  in 
this  universal  interest,  from  its  completing  a  well-defined 
and  comprehensive  cycle  of  natural  mutations.  It  is  by 
this  circumstance  rendered  an  appropriate  gpoch  for  the 
measurement  of  life  and  being ;  and  hence  there  fasten  on 


438  SANDEKS'  UNION   SERIES. 

it  peculiar  momentousness  and  solemnity,  which  remain 
inseparably  attached,  though  the  season  be  unknown  or 
forgotten.  Days  and  nights  follow  too  rajndly  to  serve  such 
a  purpose. 

4.  Only  as  the  result  of  these  mutations  does  the  year 
exist.  Were  there  no  primroses  to  die  with  the  spring,  no 
lilies  to  vanish  with  the  summer,  Avere  there  no  sequences 
of  the  leaf  and  flower,  sunshine  and  starlight,  there  would 
even  be  no  time.  For  time,  like  space,  pertains  but  to 
the  material  circumference  of  creation,  that  is,  to  the  A-isi- 
ble  half  of  the  universe,  and  is  only  appreciable  through 
its  medium.  It  is  by  objective  nature  alone  that  the  ideas 
both  of  time  and  space  are  furnished ;  and  they  are  sus- 
tained in  us  only  so  long  as  we  are  in  contact  with  it. 

5.  The  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies  contribute 
the  most  exact  and  obvious  data,  because  expressly  given 
"  for  signs,  and  for  seasons,  and  for  days,  and  years."  * 
But  the  heavens  are  not  our  only  timepiece.  Another  is 
spread  over  the  surface  of  the  earth  in  its  living  products. 
The  phenomena  connected  with  plants,  and  the  habits  of 
the  lower  animals,  constitute  in  themselves  a  complete. sys- 
tem of  chronometry ;  indicating  not  merely  seasons,  but 
even  days  and  hours. 

6.  In  the  times  of  the  leafing  of  the  trees,  the  blooming 
of  flowers,  the  ripening  of  fruits,  the  appearance  of  insects, 
the  singing  and  nest-building  of  birds,  the  departure  and 
return  of  the  migratory  kinds,  and  of  every  other  incident 
of  unmolested  Nature,  there  is  nothing  chanceful  or  uncer- 
tain. Every  event  transpires  at  a  fixed  point  in  the  series 
of  changes  to  which  it  belongs. 

7.  Celestial  and  atmospheric  phenomena,  if  they  have 

*  Genesis,  1st  chap.,  14tli  verse. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  439 

fewer  of  the  charms  of  variety,  in  their  splendors  compen- 
sate it  tenfold.  How  beautiful  to  note  the  phases  of  the 
moon,  the  chameleon-tinting  of  the  sky,  the  traveling  of 
the  planets,  and  the  circling  round  the  pole  of  the  seven 
bright  stars  of  the  sleepless  Bear^ !  With  what  gladness, 
and  enthusiasm  too,  in  the  cold,  inanimate  winter,  we  view 
the  rising  Orion,^  and  his  brilliant  quarter  of  the  heavens  ! 
The  cheerlessness  of  the  earth  is  forgotten  in  the  mag- 
nificence overhead,  and  we  thank  God  for  unfolding  such 
glory. 

8.  Ev^ery  event,  moreover,  having  its  own  poetical  rela- 
tions, at  once  refreshes  the  heart,  and  places  before  the 
mind  some  elegant  item  in  the  innumerable  harmonies  of 
the  universe.  In  the  perpetual  sparkle  of  the  Bear  is  pre- 
sented an  image  of  the  ever- wakeful  eye  of  Providence ; 
and  in  the  alternate  waxing  and  waning  of  the  moon,  a 
beautiful  picture  of  the  oscillations  in  man's  fortune. 

9.  The  regularity  with  which  the  phenomena  of  Nature 
recur,  and  their  determinate  and  unvarying  character, 
are  expressed  in  many  names.  *  Spring  is  literally  the 
season  of  growth  ;  the  summer,  that  of  sunshine  ;  autumn, 
that  of  increase  or  fertility ;  winter,  that  of  the  "  windy 
storm  and  tempest."  Times,  years,  seasons,  accordingly, 
are  not  to  be  esteemed  a  part  of  creation,  but  simply  an 
accident,  or  result  of  it. 

10.  Our  personal  experiences  concur  with  Nature  in 
testifying  this ;  for  to  no  two  men  has  time  the  same  dura- 
tion, nor  does  any  individual  reckon  it  always  by  the  same 
dial.  To  the  slothful,  time  has  the  feet  of  a  snail ;  to  the 
diligent,  the  wings  of  an  eagle.  Impatience  lengthens,  en- 
joyment shortens  it.  The  unhappi/  and  desolate  see  noth- 
ing but  weary  tedium :  with  the  cheerful,  it  glides  like  a 
stream. 


440  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 


LESSON    CXLIII. 

EARTH,  AIR,  AND  SEA. 

MAURY. 

THE  mean  annual  fall  of  rain  on  the  entire  surface  of 
the  earth  is  estimated  at  about  five  feet.  To  evaporate 
water  enough  annually  from  the  ocean  to  cover  the  earth, 
on  the  average,  five  feet  deep  with  rain ;  to  transport  it 
from  one  zone  to  another,  and  to  precipitate  it  in  the  right 
places,  at  suitable  times,  and  in  the  proportions  due,  —  is 
one  of  the  offices  of  the  grand  atmospherical  machine.  All 
this  evaporation,  however,  does  not  take  place  from  the 
sea ;  for  the  water  that  falls  on  the  land  is  re-evaporated 
from  the  land  afystin  and  again. 

2.  But,  in  the  first  instance,  it  is  evaporated  principally 
from  the  torrid  zone.  Supposing  it  all  to  be  evaporated 
thence,  we  shall  have,  encircling  the  earth,  a  belt  of  ocean 
three  thousand  miles  in  breadth,  from  which  this  atmos- 
phere raises  a  layer  of  water  annually  sixteen  feet  in 
depth.  And  to  raise  as  high  as  the  clouds,  and  lower 
down  again,  all  the  water  in  a  lake  sixteen  feet  deep,  and 
three  thousand  miles  broad,  and  twenty-four  thousand 
long,  is  the  yearly  business  of  this  invisible  machinery. 
What  a  powerful  engine  is  the  atmosphere  !  and  how 
nicely  adjusted  must  be  all  the  cogs,  and  wheels,  and 
springs,  and  compensations  of  this  exquisite  piece  of  ma- 
chinery, that  it  never  wears  out  nor  breaks  down,  nor  fails 
to  do  its  work  at  the  right  time  and  in  the  right  way ! 

3.  We  now  begin  to  perceive  why  it  is  that  the  propor- 
tions between  the  land  and  water  were  made  ^s  we  find 
them  in  Nature.  If  there  had  been  more  water,  and  less 
land,  we  should  have  had  more  rain,  and  vice  versa  ;  *  and 

*  The  terms  being  exchanged. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  441 

then  climates  would  have  been  different  from  what  they 
are  now,  and  the  inhabitants,  animals,  and  vegetables 
would  not  have  been  as  they  are.  But  that  wise  Being, 
who  in  His  kind  providence  so  watches  over  and  regards 
the  things  of  this  world  that  He  takes  note  of  the  spar- 
row's fall  and  numbers  the  very  hairs  of  our  head,  doubts 
less  designed  them  to  be  as  they  are. 

4.  The  mind  is  delighted,  and  the  imagination  charmed, 
by  contemplating  the  physical  arrangements  of  the  earth 
from  such  points  of  view  as  this  which  we  now  have  before 
us.  From  it  the  sea,  and  the  air,  and  the  land,  appear 
each  as  a  part  of  that  grand  machinery  upon  which  the 
well-being  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  earth,  sea,  and  air,  de- 
pends ;  and  which,  in  its  beautiful  adaptations,  affords  new 
and  striking  evidence  that  they  all  liave  their  origin  in  one 
omniscient  idea^  just  as  the  different  parts  of  a  watch  may 
be  considered  to  have  been  constructed  and  arranged  ac- 
cordino;  to  one  human  desio-n. 

5.  Whenever  we  turn  to  contemplate  the  works  of  Na- 
ture, we  are  stinick  with  the  admirable  system  of  compen- 
sation^—  with  the  beauty  and  nicety  with  which  every 
department  is  adjusted,  adapted,  and  regulated  according 
to  the  others.  Things  and  principles  are  meted  out  in  di- 
rections apparently  the  most  opposite,  but  in  proportions  so 
exactly  balanced,  that  results  the  most  harmonious  are  pro- 
duced. It  is  by  the  action  of  opposite  and  compensating 
forces  that  the  earth  is  kept  in  its  orbit,  and  the  stars  are 
held  suspended  in  the  azure  vault  of  heaven  ;  and  these 
forces  are  so  exquisitely  adjusted,  that,  at  the  end  of  a 
thousand  years,  the  earth,  the  sun,  and  moon,  and  every 
star  in  the  firmament,  is  found  to  come  and  twinkle  in  its 
proper  place  at  the  proper  moment ! 

6.  Therefore,  in  considering  the  general  laws  which  gov- 


442  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

ern  the  physical  agents  of  the  universe,  and  which  regulate 
them  in  the  due  performance  of  their  offices,  it  is  evident, 
that  if  the  atmosphere  had  had  a  greater  or  less  capacity 
for  moisture,  or  if  the  proportion  of  land  and  water  had 
been  different,  —  if  tlie  earth,  air,  and  water  had  not  been 
in  exact  counterpoise,  —  the  whole  arrangement  of  the  ani- 
mal and  vegetable  kingdoms  would  have  varied  from  their 
present  state.  But  God,  for  reasons  which  man  may  never 
know,  chose  to  make  those  kingdoms  what  they  are.  For 
this  purpose^  it  was  necessary,  in  His  judgment,  to  establish 
the  proportions  between  the  land,  and  the  water,  and  the 
desert,  just  as  they  are  ;  and  to  make  the  capacity  of  the 
air  to  circulate  heat  and  moisture  just  what  it  is,  and  to 
liav^e  it  to  do  all  its  work  in  obedience  to  law,  and  in  sub- 
servience to  order. 

7.  If  it  were  not  so,  why  was  power  given  to  the  winds 
to  lift  up  and  transport  moisture,  and  to  feed  the  plants 
with  nourishment  ?  or  why  was  the  property  given  to  the 
sea,  by  which  its  waters  may  become  first  vapor,  and  then 
fruitful  showers  or  gentle  dews?  If  the  proportions  and 
properties  of  land,  sea,  and  air,  were  not  adjusted  according 
to  the  reciprocal  capacities  of  all  to  perform  the  functions 
required  of  each,  why  should  we  be  told  that  He  "  meas- 
ured the  waters  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand,  and  meted  out 
the  heavens  with  a  span,  and  comprehended  the  dust  of 
the  earth  in  a  measure,  and  weighed  the  mountains  in 
scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  balance  "  ?  *  Why  did  He  span 
the  heavens,  but  that  He  might  mete  out  the  atmosphere 
in  exact  proportion  to  all  the  rest,  and  impart  to  it  those 
properties  and  powders  which  it  was  necessary  for  it  to 
liave,  in  order  that  it  might  perform  all  those  offices  and 
duties  for  which  He  desio^ned  it? 

*  Is.,  40th  chap.,  12th  verse. 


UNION   FIFTH   READER.  443 

8.  Harmonious  in  their  action,  the  air  and  sea  are  obe- 
dient to  law,  and  subject  to  order  in  all  their  movements. 
When  we  consult  them  in  the  performance  of  their  mani- 
fold and  marvelous  offices,  they  teach  us  lessons  concern- 
ing the  wonders  of  the  deep,  the  mysteries  of  the  sky,  and 
the  greatness,  wisdom,  and  goodness  of  .the  Creator.  The 
investigations  into  the  broad-spreading  circle  of  phenomena 
connected  with  the  winds  of  heaven,  and  the  waves  of  the 
sea,  are  second  to  none  for  the  good  which  they  do,  and 
for  the  lessons  which  they  teach.  The  astronomer  is  said 
to  see  the  hand  of  God  in  the  sky ;  but  does  not  the  right- 
minded  mariner,  who  looks  aloft  as  he  ponders  over  these 
things,  hear  His  voice  in  every  wave  of  the  sea  that  "  claps 
its  hands,"  and  feel  His  presence  in  every  breeze  that 
blows'  ? 


LESSON    CXLIV. 

^  Ge'  ni  I,  good  or  evil  spirits,  supposed  by  the  ancients  to  preside  over 
man's  destiny  in  life. 

THE     CLOUD. 

SHELLEY. 

1.  T  BRING  fresh  showers  for  the  thirsting  flowers, 
X         From  the  seas  and  the  streams ; 
I  bear  light  shade  for  the  leaves  when  laid 

In  their  noon-day  dreams  ; 
From  my  wings  are  shaken  the  dews  that  waken 

The  sweet  buds  every  one. 
When  rocked  to  rest  on  their  mother's  breast. 

As  she  dances  about  the  sun. 
I  wield  the  flail  of  the  lashino-  hail. 

And  whiten  the  green  plains  under ; 
And  then  again  I  dissolve  it  in  rain. 

And  laugh  as  I  pass  in  thunder. 


444  SANDEKS'  UNION   SEKIES. 

2.  I  sift  the  snow  on  the  mountains  below, 

And  their  great  pines  groan  aghast ; 
And  all  the  night  'tis  my  pillow  white, 

While  I  sleep  in  the  arms  of  the  blast. 
Sublime  on  the  towers  of  my  skyey  bowers, 

Lightning,  my  pilot,  sits ;  > 
In  a  cavern  under  is  fettered  the  thunder,  — ' 

It  struggles  and  howls  by  fits  ; 
Over  earth  and  ocean,  with  gentle  motion. 

This  pilot  is  guiding  me. 
Lured  by  the  love  of  the  genii  ^  that  move 

In  the  depths  of  the  purple  sea ; 
Over  the  rills,  and  the  crags,  and  the  hills. 

Over  the  lakes  and  the  plains, 
Wherever  he  dream,  under  mountain  or  stream. 

The  spirit  he  loves  remains ; 
And  I,  all  the  while,  bask  in  heaven's  blue  smile, 

Whilst  he  is  dissolving:  in  rains. 

3.  The  sanguine  sunrise,  with  his  meteor  eyes, 

And  his  burning  plumes  outspread, 
Leaps  on  the  back  of  my  sailing  rack. 

When  the  morning-star  shines  dead. 
As  on  the  jag  of  a  mountain-crag. 

Which  an  earthquake  rocks  and  swings. 
An  eagle,  alit,  one  moment  may  sit. 

In  the  light  of  its  golden  wings. 
And  when  sunset  may  breathe,  from  the  lit  sea  beneath, 

Its  ardors  of  rest  and  love. 
And  the  crimson  pall  of  eve  may  fall 

From  the  depth  of  heaven  above. 
With  wings  folded  I  rest,  on  mine  airy  nest, 

As  still  as  a  brooding  dove. 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADEE.  445 

4.  That  orb^d  Maiden,  with  white  fire  laden, 

Whom  mortals  call  the  moon, 
Glides  glimmering  o'er  my  fleece-like  floor, 

By  the  midnight  breezes  strewn  ; 
And  wherever  the  beat  of  her  unseen  feet, 

Which  only  the  angels  hear, 
May  have  broken  the  woof  of  my  tent's  thin  roof, 

The  stars  peep  behind  her,  and  peer ! 
And  I  laugh  to  see  them  whirl  and  flee. 

Like  a  swarm  of  golden  bees, 
When  I  widen  the  rent  in  my  wind-built  tent, 

Till  the  calm  rivers,  lakes,  and  seas, 
Like  strips  of  the  sky  fallen  through  me  on  high. 

Are  each  paved  with  the  moon  and  these. 

5.  I  bind  the  sun's  throne  with  a  burning  zone. 

And  the  moon's  with  a  girdle  of  pearl ; 
The  volcanoes  are  dim,  and  the  stars  reel  and  swim. 

When  the  whirlwinds  my  banner  unfurl. 
From  cape  to  cape,  with  a  bridge-like  shape. 

Over  a  torrent  of  sea. 
Sun-beam  proof,  I  hang  like  a  roof, 

The  mountains  its  columns  be. 
The  triumphal  arch  through  which  I  march 

With  hurricane,  fire,  and  snow, 
When  the  powers  of  the  air  are  chained  to  my  chair^ 

Is  the  million-colored  bow  ; 
The  sphere-fire  above  its  soft  colors  wove. 

While  the  moist  earth  was  laughing  below. 

6.  I  am  the  daughter  of  earth  and  water. 

And  the  nursling  of  the  sky ; 
I  pass  through  the  pores  of  the  ocean  and  shores  ', 
I  change,  but  I  can  not  die. 


446  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

For  after  the  rain,  when,  with  never  a  stain, 

The  pavihon  of  heaven  is  bare. 
And  the  winds  and  sunbeams,  with  their  convex  gleams. 

Build  up  the  blue  dome  of  air, 
I  silently  laugh  at  my  own  cenotaph. 

And  out  of  the  caverns  of  rain, 
Like  a  sprite  from  the  gloom,  like  a  ghost  from  the  tomb, 

I  rise  and  upbuild  it  again. 


LESSON    CXLY. 

^  A  crop'  o  lis,  the  upper  or  higher  part  of  a  Grecian  city ;  hence  the  cita- 
del or  castle,  and  especially  the  citadel  of  Athens. 

EULOGY   ON  DANIEL  WEBSTER* 

LEWIS  GAYLORD  CLAKK. 

THE  voice  of  national  eulogy  and  sorrow  unite  to  tell  us, 
Daniel  Webster  is  numbered  with  the  dead.  Seldom 
has  mortality  seen  a  sublimer  close  of  an  illustrious  career. 
No  American,  since  Washington,  has,  to  so  great  an  ex- 
tent, occupied  the  thoughts,  and  molded  the  minds,  of 
men.  The  past  may  hold  back  its  tribute,  and  the  present 
give  no  light ;  but  the  future  will  show,  in  colors  of  living 
truth,  the  honor  which  is  justly  due  him  as  the  political 
prophet,  and  great  intellectual  light  of  the  New  World. 
His  life-time  labors  have  been  to  defend  the  Constitution, 
to  preserve  the  Union,  to  honor  the  great  men  of  the  Revo- 
lution, to  vindicate  international  law,  to  develop  the  re- 
sources of  the  country,  and  transmit  the  blessings  of  good 

*  Daniel  Webster  died  at  Marshfield,  Mass.,  Oct.  24, 1852,  in  the  seventy- 
first  year  of  his  age. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  447 

government  to  all  who  should  thereafter  walk  on  Ameri- 
can soil. 

2.  Death  has  thrown  a  deep  and  somber  pall  over  the 
land.  Tearful  is  Columbia's  eye,  and  desolate  is  her  heart. 
Her  temple  is  shrouded  in  gloom ;  its  aisles  are  thronged 
with  mourners ;  its  columns  are  wreathed  with  cypress. 
The  muffled  bell  is  but  the  echo  of  the  muffled  heart. 
Elegy  has  stifled  encomium  ;  panegyric  has  yielded  to  sor- 
row ;  grief  has  become  the  most  befitting  eulogy.  It  is 
right  that  mourning  should  shroud  the  land.  A  star  of 
magnitude  and  luster  has  left  the  horizon,  and  gone  down 
to  the  realms  of  death. 

3.  Wherever  on  earth  patriotism  commands  regard,  and 
eloquence  leads  captive  the  soul,  it  will  be  seen  and  felt  that 
a  truly  great  man  has  been  called  away,  and  left  a  void 
which  none  can  fill.  New  Hampshire  has  lost  her  noblest 
column.  She  has  no  more  such  granite  left.  Massachu- 
setts will  not  soon  cease  weeping  for  her  adoj)ted  son. 
Plymouth  Rock,  Faneuil  Hall,  and  Bunker  Hill,  will 
forever  speak  of  him  whose  eloquence  has  made  them  hal- 
lowed spots  in  the  remembrance  of  mankind. 

4.  Daniel  Webster  was  great  in  all  the  elements  of  his 
character.  Great  in  original  mental  strength  ;  great  in 
varied  and  vast  acquirements ;  great  in  quick  and  keen 
perception ;  great  in  subtle,  logical  discrimination  ;  great 
in  force  of  thought ;  great  in  power  of  intense  and  rigid 
analysis ;  great  in  rare  and  beautiful  combination  of  tal- 
ent ;  great  in  ability  to  make  an  effort,  and  command  his 
power;  great  in  range  and  acuteness  of  vision,  —  he  could 
see  like  a  prophet.  Hence  his  decision  of  character ;  his 
bold,  manly,  and  independent  thought ;  his  Avhole  sover- 
eignty of  mind.  No  man,  probably,  ever  lived,  who  could 
calculate  with  such  mathematical  certainty   the  separate 


448  SANDEKS'  UNION  SERIES. 

effect  of  human  actions,  or  tlie  intricate,  combined,  and 
complicated  influence  of  every  movement,  social,  political, 
or  personal.  He  could  define  and  determine  the  very 
destiny  of  influence. 

5.  This  is  the  key  to  the  problem  of  his  greatness,  an 
explanation  to  the  miracle  of  his  power.  We  are  proud 
of  his  greatness,  because  it  is  American,  —  wholly  Ameri- 
can. The  very  impulses  of  his  heart  were  American. 
The  spirit  of  American  institutions  had  infused  itself  into 
his  life ;  had  become  a  part  of  his  being.  He  was  proud 
of  his  country ;  proud  of  her  commerce ;  proud  of  her 
manufactures  ;  proud  of  her  agriculture  ;  proud  of  her  in- 
stitutions of  art  and  science ;  and  proud  of  her  wealth, 
her  resources,  and  her  labor.  And  all,  in  turn,  were 
proud  of  him.  His  patriotism  was  not  bounded  by  the 
narrow  limits  of  sectional  interest ;  not  hemmed  in  by 
State  lines,  nor  regulated  and  biased  by  local  policies. 
It  was  as  broad  as  his  country.  He  knew  a  North  and  a 
South,  an  East  and  a  West ;  but  he  knew  them  only  as 
one,  —  "one  and  inseparable." 

6.  As  a  Diplo'matist,  the  world  has  never  seen  his 
equal.  He  wielded  the  pen  of  the  nation  with  a  power,  a 
dignity,  and  a  grandeur,  wholly  unparalleled  in  the  annals 
of  diplomacy.  When  clouds  and  darkness  gloomed  the 
heavens ;  when  the  storm  had  gathered,  ready  to  burst  in 
fury ;  when  the  whole  Republic  every  moment  feared  the 
mighty  convulsive  shock  which  should  mar  and  shatter 
the  fabric  of  their  hopes, — then,  standing  on  the  summit 
of  the  trembling  Acropolis^  the  Angel  of  Deliverance,  he 
threw  his  burning  chain  over  the  cloud,  and  drew  the 
lightning  in  safety  from  the  heavens  ! 

7.  But  it  is  as  Senator,  in  that  grand  forum  of  the 
nation's  congregated  wisdom,  power,  and  eloquence,  we 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  449 

see  liim  towering  in  all  the  majesty  and  supremacy  of  his 
greatness,  —  the  mighty  bulwark  of  the  nation's  hope,  the 
august  arbiter  of  the  nation's  destiny.  How  grand !  how 
sublime  !  how  imperial !  how  god-like  !  It  was  here  that 
he  occupied  the  uncontested  throne  of  human  greatness  ; 
exhibited  himself  to  the  world  in  all  his  grand  and  magnifi- 
cent proportions ;  wore  a  crown  studded  with  gems  that 
an  emperor  might  covet ;  won  an  immortality  of  envied 
honor ;  and  covered  himself  with  a  glory,  brighter,  and 
purer,  and  higher  than  a  conqueror  has  ever  been  per- 
mitted to  achieve. 

8.  Eloquence  was  his  panoply,  —  his  very  stepping-stone 
to  fame.  She  twined  upon  his  brow  a  wreath  which  antiq- 
uity might  covet,  inspired  his  soul  with  a  divinity  which 
shaped  his  lofty  destiny,  and  threw  a  light  upon  his  track 
of  glory  which  no  fortune  could  obscure.  She  bore  him 
up  to  the  Pisgah*  of  renown,  where  he  sat  solitary  and 
alone,  —  the  monarch  of  a  realm  whose  conqueror  wears 
no  bloody  laurels,  whose  fair  domain  no  carnage  can  de- 
spoil, and  in  whose  bright  crown  no  pillaged  pearls  are 
set. 

9.  As  a  forensic  Orator,  I  know  of  no  age,  past  or 
present,  which  can  boast  his  superior.  He  united  the 
boldness  and  energy  of  the  Grecian,  and  the  grandeur  and 
strength  of  the  Roman,  to  an  original,  sublime  simplicity, 
which  neither  Grecian  nor  Roman  possessed.  He  did  not 
deal  in  idle  declamation  and  lofty  expression  ;  his  ideas 
were  not  embalmed  in  rhetorical  embellishments,  nor 
buried  up  in  the  superfluous  tinselry  of  metaphor  and 
trope.  He  clothed  them  for  the  occasion ;  and,  if  the 
crisis  demanded,  they  stood  forth  naked,  in  all  their  native 
majesty,  armed  with  a  power  which  would  not  bend  to  the 

*  See  Deut.,  3d  chap.,  27th  verse. 


450  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

passion,  but  only  stooped  to  conquer  the  reason.  Sublime, 
indeed,  it  was  to  see  that  giant  mind,  when  roused  in  all  its 
grandeur,  sweep  over  the  fields  of  reason  and  imagination, 
bearing  down  all  opposition,  as  with  the  steady  and  resist- 
less power  of  the  ocean  billows, —  to  see  the  eye,  the  brow, 
the  gesture,  the  whole  man^  speaking  with  an  utterance  too 
sublime  for  language,  a  logic  too  lofty  for  speech. 

10.  He  needs  no  marble  column  or  sculptured  urn  to 
perpetuate  his  memory,  or  tell  his  worth  to  rising  genera- 
tions. His  fame  shall  outlive  marble  ;  for  when  time  shall 
efface  every  letter  from  the  crumbling  stone,  yea,  when 
the  marble  itself  shall  dissolve  to  dust,  his  memory  shall 
be  more  deeply  incased  in  the  hearts  of  unborn  millions, 
and  from  his  tomb  shall  arise  a  sacred  incense  which  shall 
garnish  the  concave  of  his  native  sky  with  the  brightest 
galaxy  of  posthumous  fame  ;  and  on  its  broad  arch  of  stud- 
ded macrnificence  shall  be  braided,  in  "  characters  of  liv- 
ing  light,"  Daniel  Webster,  the  great  Defender  ^op 
THE  Constitution. 

11.  Trite  and  insipid  would  it  be  in  me  to  trace  anew 
that  mighty  genius  through  his  wonderful  career.  There 
are  his  acts,  —  noble,  lofty,  god-like  !  They  are  their  own 
historians.  There  are  his  thoughts,  —  high,  heroic,  and 
sublime.  They  stand  alone,  unequaled,  unalloyed,  imper- 
ishable. They  are  the  world's  legacy.  His  fame  has 
taken  the  pinions  of  ubiquity ;  it  is  already  inchased  deep 
in  the  hearts  of  grateful  millions,  "and  there  it  wiix 

REMAIN    F0REVP:R." 

12.  The  nation  mourns,  and  well  it  may.  He  has  lefl 
a  void  which  none  can  fill.  Laid  forever  at  rest  in  the 
humble  grave,  by  the  side  of  the  sea,  the  wild  waves  sing 
his   requiem.     With    Mount  Vernon   and  Ashland,*  his 

♦  The  residence  of  Henry  Clay,  and  where  he  was  buried. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  451 

tomb  will  be  a  place  where  men  in  all  coming  time  will 
resort,  to  bring  away  memorials  from  the  sanctuary  of  the 
mighty  dead.  Patriotism,  when  it  desponds,  will  go  there, 
look,  and  live ;  factional  strife  and  sectional  jealousy  will 
feel  rebuked  when  they  visit  the  last  resting-place  of  him 
whose  labors  jf  a  life-time  were  to  transmit  tlie  blessings  of 
life  and  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  which  God 
ordained  should  first  be  made  manifest  in  America. 

13.  The  beams  of  the  setting  sun  will  fall  with  a  mel- 
lowed light  on  the  spot  where  the  majestic  form  of  Webster 
molders  back  to  dust,  and  where  the  anthem  of  the  Puri- 
tan was  heard  as  he  came  to  build  an  altar  to  his  God,  and 
find  a  quiet  tomb.  May  the  worshiper  of  after-years  ap- 
proach that  hallowed  shrine  with  no  empty  offering  of  idle 
curiosity,  no  vain  and  soulless  orison ;  but  with  grateful 
and  devout  homage  may  the  pilgrim  of  another  age  jour- 
ney with  reverent  adoration  to  that  consecrated  spot,  and, 
arched  upon  its  humble  tablet,  read,  in  that  simple  but 
significant  epitapli,  "  I  still  live  !  "  *  —  the  high,  pro- 
plietic  record  of  the  last  and  sublimest  victory  of  his  life  — 
that  of  the  unblenching  spirit  over  death. 

14.  The  sun  that  illumined  that  planet  of  clay 
Had  sunk  in  the  west  of  an  unclouded  day  ; 

And  tlie  cold  dews  of  death  stood  like  diamonds  of 

light. 
Thickly  set  in  the  pale,  dusky  forehead  of  Night : 
From  each  gleamed  a  ray  of  that  fetterless  soul, 
Wliich  had  bursted  its  prison,  despising  control, 
And,  careering  above,   o'er  earth's    darkness   and 

gloom. 
Inscribed,  '  I  still  live,'  on  the  arch  of  the  tomb/ 

*  Last  words  of  Daniel  Webster. 


452  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

15.  The  gleam  of  that  promise  shall  brighten  the  page 
Of  the  prophet  and  statesman  through  each  rolling 

age. 
He  lives  !  prince  and  peasant  shall  join  the  acclaim  i 
No  fortune  can  make  him  the  martyr  of  Fame. 
He  lives  !  from  the  grave  of  the  patriot  Greek 
Comes  the  voice  of  the  dead,  which,  though  silent. 

shall  speak  ; 
Light  leaps  from  the  cloud  which  has  deepened  the 

gloom, 
And  flashes  its  glance  on  the  arch  of  his  tomb  I 

16.  He  lives,  ever  lives,  in  the  hearts  of  the  free ; 
The  wing  of  his  fame  spreads  across  the  broad  sea ; 
He  lives  where  the  banner  of  Freedom's  unfurled ; 
The  pride  of  New  England,  —  the  wealth  of  the 

world ! 
Thou  land  of  the  pilgrim !  how  hallowed  the  bed 
Where  thy  patriot  sleeps,  and  thy  heroes  have  bled ! 
Let  age  after  age  in  perennial  bloom 
Braid   the   light    of   thy  stars  on  the  arch 

of  his  tomb.'' 


LESSON    CXLYL 

SCENERY    OF    PALESTINE. 

REV.  J.  P.   NEWMAN. 

SPRING  is  the  most  deliglitful  season  of  the  year  in  the 
Holy  Land,  whether  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  cli- 
mate, or  to  behold  the  magnificence  of  the  scenery.  Then 
the  skies  are  bright,  the  air  balmy,  and  the  vernal  sun 
lights  up  the  landscape  with  a  thousand  forms  of  beauty. 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER.  453 

Then  sparkling  fountains  are  unsealed,  silver  brooks  go 
murmuring  by,  and  wild  cascades,  leaping  from  their  rocky 
higlits,  come  dashing  down  the  mountain-side,  scattering  in 
their  descent  wreaths  of  rainbow  spray. 

2.  Then  the  valleys  and  the  hills  are  clothed  with  verd- 
ure, the  fields  are  green  with  grains  and  grasses,  the  fig 
and  palm  trees  are  in  blossom,  the  almond,  apricot,  olive, 
and  pomegranate  are  ripening,  and  the  cypress,  tamarisk, 
oak,  walnut,  sycamore,  and  poplar  are  decked  with  the 
clean,  fresh  foliage  of  a  new  year.  The  herds  of  camels 
and  buffaloes  are  grazing  on  the  meadows,  the  flocks  of 
sheep  and  goats  go  gamboling  up  the  mountain-sides. 
Then,  in  all  the  glens,  on  all  the  vast  prairie-plains,  and 
over  all  the  highest  mountains,  are  flowers  blooming, — 
anemones,  oleanders,  amaranths,  arbutuses,  poppies,  holly- 
hocks, daisies,  hyacinths,  tulips,  pinks,  lilies,  and  roses,  — 
growing  in  unbounded  profusion,  delighting  the  senses,  and 
transforming  the  land  Into  a  garden  of  flowers. 

3.  But  whatever  is  beautiful  in  the  scenery  of  Palestine 
is  peculiar  to  the  north.  In  the  south  there  is  a  sameness 
of  outline  and  of  color  that  wearies  the  eye,  and  makes 
one  sigh  for  variety:  but,  north  of  the  mountains  of 
Ephraim,  the  beholder  is  charmed  with  green  plains  and 
fertile  valleys,  with  wooded  dells  and  graceful  hills,  with 
rippling  brooks  and  sylvan  lakes,  with  leaping  cascades 
and  rushing  rivers,  with  sublime  chasms  and  profound 
ravines ;  and  with  .lofty  mountains,  broken  into  beetling 
elifls  and  craggy  peaks,  whose  higher  summits  -  are  capped 
with  perpetual  snows,  and  down  whose  furrowed  sides  rush 
a  thousand  torrents. 

4.  If  the  standard  of  landscape-beauty  be  the  regular 
alternation  of  plain  and  mountain,  as  In  Greece  and  Italy; 
the  clean  meadows,  the  well-made  farms,  and  green  hills, 


454-  SANDERS'   UNION   SERIES. 

as  in  France  and  England  ;  or  the  continent-like  prairies, 
the  miniature  seas,  and  multiform  mountains  of  America, — 
then  the  Land  of  Promise  must  yield  the  palm  to  those 
more  highly-favored  countries.  But,  if  the  combination  of 
all  these  characteristics  on  a  smaller  scale  constitutes  the 
beautiful  and  grand  in  natural  scenery,  Palestine  is  not 
unworthily  praised  by  the  sacred  writers  for  the  variety 
and  magriificence  of  its  landscape. 

5.  Viewed  from  such  a  stand-point,  the  Holy  Land  is 
a  world  in  miniature,  possessing  the  three  great  terrene 
features  of  the  globe,  —  sea-board,  plain,  and  mountain. 
Selected  by  Providence  to  be  the  medium  of  divine  truth 
to  men  of  all  lands,  it  was  necessary  that  the  national 
home  of  the  Bible-writers  should  open  to  their  imagina- 
tions the  most  wonderful  and  varied  of  the  works  of  the 
Creator. 

6.  Naturally  inclined  to  express  our  admiration  of  the 
Deity  in  allusions  to  His  w^isdom  and  goodness  displayed  in 
Nature,  we  experience  a  unison  of  devotion  with  those 
who  were  the  oracles  of  inspired  truth  to  us  in  their  sub- 
lime illustrations,  drawn  from  the  sea  and  land,  the  valleys 
and  hills,  the  climate  and  fruits,  and  the  beasts  and  birds, 
of  the  country  that  gave  them  birth.  Had  they  dwelt  at 
the  poles,  or  on  the  equator,  or  in  the  heart  of  Arabia,  or 
on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  they  could  not  have  given  the 
same  universality  of  expression  to  the  message  they  were 
sent  to  announce.  It  is  evidence  of  the  presence  of  that 
all-wise  Spirit,  that  the  prophets  and  psalmists,  the  Savior 
and  the  apostles,  drew  their  simplest,  noblest  figures  from 
Nature,  such  as  can  not  fail  to  arrest  the  attention  of  the 
untutored  mind  in  every .  land,  and  inspire  intellects  of 
the  highest  culture  with  admiration. 

7.  Who  among  all  the  maritime  nations  of  the  earth  can 


TTNION  FIFTH  READER.  ^  455 

fail  to  appreciate  the  Psalmist's  description  of  his  native  sea, 
as  from  its  shores,  or  from  some  mountain-top,  he  beheld  its 
wonders  ?  —  "  O  Lord,  how  manifold  are  Thy  works  !  in 
wisdom  hast  Thou  made  them  all ;  the  earth  is  full  of  Thy 
riches :  so  is  this  great  and  wide  sea,  wherein  are  things 
creeping  innumerable,  both  small  and  great  beasts."  * 
And  who  that  has  ever  crossed  the  ocean,  or  witnessed  a 
storm  at  sea,  does  not  realize  the  perfection  of  his  descrip- 
tion ? —  *' They  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  that  do 
business  in  great  waters ;  these  see  the  works  of  the  Lord, 
and  His  wonders  in  the  deep ;  for  He  commandeth,  and 
raiseth  the  stormy  wind  which  lifteth  up  the  waves  thereof: 
tliey  mount  up  to  the  heaven,  they  go  down  again  to  the 
depths  ;  their  soul  is  melted  because  of  trouble  ;  they  reel 
to  and  fro,  and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man,  and  are  at 
their  wits'  ends."  f 

8.  The  mountaineer  feels  that  the  Psalmist  uttered 

"  What  oft  was  thought,  but  ne'er  so  well  expressed," 

when  he  describes,  — ''  The  high  hills  are  a  refuire  for  the 
wild  goats,  and  the  rocks  for  the  conies."  J  The  dweller 
at  the  poles  is  conscious  of  a  fellow-feeling  when  he  reads 
these  sublime  words,  —  "  He  giveth  snow  like  wool ;  He 
scattereth  the  hoar-frost  like  ashes ;  He  casteth  forth  his 
ice  like  morsels:  who  can  stand  before  His  cold?"§  The 
nomad  of  the  desert  finds  his  own  country  portrayed  in 
the  graphic  allusions  to  a  "  dry  and  thirsty  land  where  no 
water  is,"  to  the  "  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary 
land  ; "  and  feels  himself  kindred  to  the  patriarchs  in  his 
predatory  life. 

9.  They  that  dwell  upon  the  equator  comprehend  that 
grand  and  terrific  passage  descriptive  of  the  earthquake 

*  Ps.  civ.  24,  25.      1  Ps.  cvii.  23-27.      t  Ps.  civ.  18.      §  Ps.  cxlvii.  16,  17. 


456  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

and  volcano:  —  ''He  looketli  on  the  earth,  and  it  trem- 
bleth  ;  He  toucheth  the  hills,  and  they  smoke."  *  And  to 
the  denizens  of  all  lands  are  familiar  those  impressive  ref- 
erences to  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  —  to  the  "thunder 
of  his  power;"  to  the  "lightnings  that  lighten  the  world;" 
to  the  storm  of  hail  and  rain ;  to  the  shepherd  on  the 
mountain  ;  to  the  husbandman  in  the  field ;  and  to  the 
merchant  in  the  marts  of  commerce. 


LESSON^    CXLYII. 

*  Lost  Ple'  iad,  one  of  the  Pleiades,  or  seven  small  stars  situated  in  ttie 

neck  of  the  constellation  Taurus.  Only  six  of  these  stars  are  visible 
to  the  naked  eye;  and  the  ancients  supposed  that  the  seventh  concealed 
herself,  out  of  shame  for  having  bestowed  her  love  upon  a  mere  mor- 
tal, Sisyphus,  while  her  sisters  were  the  favorites  of  divine  personages. 

•  Sa'  mi  el-breatii,  a  hot  and  destructive  wind  that  sometimes  blows,  in 

Arabia  and  the  adjacent  countries,  from  the  desert ;  the  simoom. 

BIRTH-DAY  REFLECTIONS. 

GEORGE  D.  PRENTICE. 

1.  Another  year 

Has  parted,  and  its  knell  is  sounding  now 
O'er  the  Past's  silent  ocean.     Ah,  it  is 
An  hour  for  tears !     There  is  a  specter-form 
In  memory's  voiceless  chambers,  pointing  now 
Its  dim,  cold  finger  to  the  beautiful 
And  holy  visions  that  have  passed  away, 
And  left  no  shadow  of  their  loveliness 
On  the  dead  waste  of  life.     That  specter  lifts 
The  coffin-lid  of  dear,  remembered  Love, 
And,  bending  mournfully  above  the  pale, 

*  Ps.  civ.  32. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  45? 

Sweet  form  that  slumbers  there,  scatters  dead  flowers 
O'er  wliat  is  gone  forever. 

2.  I  am  not 

As  in  the  years  of  boyhood.     There  were  hours 

Of  joyousness  that  came  Hke  angel-shapes 

Upon  my  heart ;  but  they  are  altered  now, 

And  rise  on  memory's  view  Hke  statues  pale 

By  a  dim  fount  of  tears.     And  there  were  springs, 

Upon  whose  stream  the  sweet  young  blossoms  leaned 

To  list  the  gush  of  music  ;  but  their  depths 

Are  turned  to  dust.     There,  too,  were  holy  lights, 

That  shone,  sweet  rainbows  of  the  spirit,  o'er 

The  skies  of  new  existence  ;  but  their  gleams, 

Like  the  lost  Pleiad^  of  the  olden  time. 

Have  faded  from  my  vision,  and  are  lost 

'Mid  the  cold  mockeries  of  earth. 

3.  Alone!  — 
I  am  alone !     The  guardians  of  my  young 
And  sinless  years  have  gone,  and  left  me  here 
A  solitary  wanderer.     Their  low  tones 

Of  love  oft  swell  upon  the  evening  winds, 
Or  wander  sweetly  down  through  falling  dews 
At  midnight's  still  and  melancholy  hour  ; 
But  voice  alone  is  there.     Ages  of  thought 
Come  o'er  me  there ;  and,  with  a  spirit  w^on 
Back  to  its  earlier  years,  I  kneel  again 
At  young  life's  broken  shrine. 

4.  The  thirst  of  power 
Has  been  a  fever  to  my  spirit.     Oft, 

Even  in  my  childhood,  I  was  wont  to  gaze 
Upon  the  swollen  cataract  rushing  down 
With  its  eternal  thunder-peal ;  the  far 

20 


458  SANDEES'  UNION   SERIES. 

Expanse  of  ocean,  with  its  infinite 
Of  stormy  waters  roaring  to  the  heavens ; 
The  night-storm  fiercely  rending  the  great  oaks 
From  their  rock-pinnacles  ;  the  giant  clouds 
Tossing  their  plumes  like  warriors  in  the  sky, 
And  hurling  their  keen  lightnings  through  the  air 
Like  the  red  flash  of  swords.     Ay,  I  was  wont 
To  gaze  on  these,  and  almost  weep  to  think 
I  could  not  match  their  strength.    The  same  wild  thirst 
For  power  is  yet  upon  me :  it  has  been 
A  madness  in  my  day-dreams,  and  a  curse 
Upon  my  being.     It  has  led  me  on 
To  mingle  in  the  strife  of  men,  and  dare 
The  Samiel-breath^  of  hate  ;   and  I  am  now. 
Even  in  the  opening  of  my  manhood's  prime, 
One  whom  the  world  loves  not. 
5.  Well  —  it  is  well. 

There  is  a  silent  purpose  in  my  heart; 
.  And  neither  love,  nor  hate,  nor  fear,  shall  tame 
My  own  fixed  daring.     Though  my  being's  stream 
Gives  out  no  music  now,  'tis  passing  back 
To  its  far  fountain  in  the  heavens,  and  there 
'Twill  rest  forever  in  the  ocean-tide 
Of  God's  immensity.     I  will  not  mourn 
Life's  shrouded  memories.     I  can  still  drink  in 
The  unshadowed  beauty  of  the  universe. 
Gaze  with  a  swelling  soul  upon  the  blue 
Magnificence  above,  and  hear  the  hymn 
Of  Heaven  in  every  starlight  ray,  and  fill 
Glen,  hill,  and  vale,  and  mountain,  with  the  bright 
And  glorious  visions  poured  from  the  deep  home 
Of  an  immortal  mind.     Past  Year,  farewell  I 


UNION  FIFTH  KEADEE.  459 


LESSON    CXLYIII. 

*  A  crop'  o  lis,  the  upper  or  higher  part  of  a  Grecian  city ;   hence  the 

citadel  or  castle,  and  especially  the  citadel  of  Athens. 

*  Porch,  a  public  portico  in  Athens,  where  Zeno,  the  philosopher,  taught 

his  disciples ;  hence  sometimes  used  as  equivalent  to  the  school  of  the 
Stoics. 
•Ly  ce'  um,  a  place  in  Greece,  near  the  River  Ilissus,  where  Aristotle 
taught  philosophy. 

*  Grove,  a  cluster  of  trees  shading  an  avenue  or  walk. 

PAUL    AT    ATHENS. 

JOHN  ANGELL  JAMES. 

BEHOLD  Paul,  the  Apostle,  at  Athens !  think  of  the 
matchless  splendor  which  blazed  upon  his  view  as  he 
rolled  his  eye  around  the  enchanting  panorama  that  en- 
circled the  Hill  of  Mars.  On  the  one  hand,  as  he  stood 
upon  the  summit  of  the  rock,  beneath  the  canopy  of 
heaven,  was  spread  a  glorious  prospect  of  mountains, 
islands,  seas,  and  skies ;  on  the  other,  quite  within  his 
view,  was  the  Plain  of  Marathon,  where  the  wrecks  of 
former  generations,  and  the  tombs  of  departed  heroes, 
mingled  together  in  silent  desolation. 

2.  Behind  him  towered  the  lofty  Acropolis,'  crowned 
with  the  pride  of  Grecian  architecture.  There,  in  the 
zenith  of  their  splendor  and  the  perfection  of  their  beauty, 
stood  those  peerless  temples,  the  very  fragments  of  which 
are  viewed  by  modern  travelers  with  an  idolatry  almost 
equal  to  that  which  reared  them.  Stretched  along  the 
plain  below  him,  and  reclining  her  head  on  the  slope  of 
the  neighboring  hills,  was  Athens,  mother  of  the  arts  and 
sciences,  with  her  noble  offspring  sporting  beside  her. 

3.  The  Porch,'-^  the  Lyceum,^  and  the  Grove ,^  with  the 


460  SANDERJg'   UKION  SERIES. 

stations  of  departed  sages,  and  the  forms  of  their  living 
disciples,  were  all  presented  to  the  apostle's  eye.  What 
mind,  possessing  the  slightest  pretension  to  classic  taste, 
can  think  of  his  situation,  and  such  sublime  and  captivating 
scenery,  without  a  momentary  rapture  ?  Yet  there,  even 
there^  did  this  accomplished  scholar  stand  as  insensible  to 
all  the  grandeur  as  if  nothing  was  before  him  but  the  tree- 
less, turfless  desert. 

4.  Absorbed  in  the  holy  abstractions  of  his  own  mind, 
he  saw  the  charms,  felt  no  fascination,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  pierced  with  the  most  poignant  distress ;  and 
what  was  the  cause  ?  '•'•He  saiv  the  city  wholly  given  to 
idolatry^  To  him  it  presented  nothing  but  a  magnificent 
mausoleum,  decorated,  it  is  true,  with  the  richest  produc- 
tions of  the  sculptor  and  architect,  but  still  where  the 
souls  of  men  lay  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins ;  while  the 
dim  light  of  philosophy  that  still  glimmered  in  the  schools 
appeared  but  as  the  lamp  of  the  sepulcher,  shedding  its  pale 
and  sickly  ray  around  those  gorgeous  chambers  of  death. 


LESSON    CXLIX. 

PAUL  AT  ATHENS.  — Continued. 

THERE  was  something,  to  such  a  one  as  Paul,  that  was 
spirit-stirring  in  the  mighty  array  that  he  had  to  cope 
with  at  Athens.  He  was  full  of  courage  and  of  hope.  In 
the  cause  of  Christ  he  had  gone  on  conquering,  and  would 
trust  that,  even  here,  he  came  to  conquer.  He  felt  that  it 
was  enough,  even  if  he  saved  but  one,  to  recompense  the 
effort  and  the  peril ;  that  it  was  enough,  if,  by  his  faithful- 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADER.  461 

ness,  he  only  delivered  liis  own  soul.  But  his  was  a  mind 
to  look  and  aim  at  more  than  this.  He  felt  the  splendor 
of  the  triumph  there  would  be  in  leveling  the  wisdom  and 
the  idolatry  of  Athens  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross. 

2.  Animated  by  such'  feelings,  we  may  iiow  regard 
Paul,  in  what  must  have  been  one  of  the  most  interesting 
moments  of  even  his  eventful  life,  preparing  himself  on 
the  Hill  of  Mars  to  address  an  auditory  of  Athenians  on 
behalf  of  Christianity.  He  would  feel  the  imposing  asso- 
ciations of  the  spot  on  which  he  stood,  where  justice  had 
been  administered  in  its  most  awful  form,  by  characters  the 
most  venerable,  in  the  darkness  of  night,  under  the  canoj^y 
of  heaven,  with  the  solemnities  of  religion,  and  with  an 
authority  which  legal  institution  and  public  opinion  had 
assimilated  rather  with  the  decrees  of  conscience  and  of 
the  gods,  than  with  the  ordinary  power  of  human  tri- 
bunals. 

3.  He  would  look  around  on  many  an  immortal  trophy 
of  architect  and  sculptor,  where  genius  had  triumphed,  but 
triumphed  only  in  the  cause  of  that  idolatry  to  which  they 
were  dedicated,  and  for  which  they  existed.  And  beyond 
the  city,  clinging  round  its  temples,  like  its  inhabitants  to 
their  enshrined  idols,  would  open  on  his  view  that  lovely 
countrv,  and  the  sublime  ocean,  and  the  serene  heavens 
bending  over  them,  and  bearing  that  testimony  to  the  uni- 
versal Creator  which  man  and  man's  Avorks  withheld. 

4.  And  with  all  would  Grecian  glory  be  connected,  — 
the  brightness  of  a  day  that  was  closing,  and  of  a  sun  that 
had  already  set,  where  recollections  of  grandeur  faded  into 
sensations  of  melancholy.  And  he  would  gaze  on  a  thi'ong- 
ino-  auditory,  the  representatives,  to  his  fancy,  of  all  that 
had  been,  and  of  all  that  was ;  and  think  of  the  intel' 
lects  with  which  he  had  to  grapple,  and  of  the  hearts 


462  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

in  whose  very  core  he  aimed  to  plant  the  barbed  arrows 
of  conviction. 

5.  There  was  that  multitude,  so  acute,  so  inquisitive,  so 
polished,  so  athirst  for  novelty,  and  so  impressible  by  elo- 
quence ;  yet  with  whom  a  barbarian  accent  might  break 
the  charm  of  the  most  persuasive  tongue  ;  over  whom 
their  own  oligarchy  of  orators  would  soon  re-assert  their 
dominion,  in  spite  of  the  invasion  of  a  stranger ;  and  with 
whom  sense,  feeling,  and  habit  would  throw  up  all  their 
barriers  against  the  eloquence  of  Christianity. 

6.  There  would  be  the  priest,  astonished  at  an  attempt 
so  daring ;  and  as  the  speaker's  design  opened  on  his 
mind,  anxiously,  and  with  alternate  contempt  and  rage, 
measuring  the  strength  of  the  Samson  who  thus  grasped 
the  pillars  of  his  temple,  threatening  to  whelm  him,  his 
altars,  and  his  gods,  beneath  their  ruins.  There  would  be 
the  stoic,  in  the  coldness  of  his  pride,  looking  sedately 
down,  as  on  a  child  playing  with  children,  to  see  what  new 
game  was  afloat,  and  what  trick  or  toy  was  now  produced 
for  wonderment. 

7.  There  would  be  the  epicurean,  tasting,  as  it  were,  the 
preacher's  doctrine,  to  see  if  it  promised  aught  of  merri- 
ment ;  just  lending  enough  of  idle  attention  not  to  lose 
amusement  should  it  offer,  and  venting  the  full  explosion 
of  his  ridicule  on  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  There  the 
sophist,  won,  perhaps,  into  something  of- an  approving  and 
complacent  smile  by  the  dexterity  of  Paul's  introduction, 
but  finding,  as  he  proceeded,  that  this  was  no  mere  show 
of  art,  or  war  of  words,  and  vibrating  between  the  habitual 
love  of  entangling,  bewildering,  and  insulting  an  opponent, 
and  the  repulsiveness  which  there  always  is  to  such  men  in 
the  language  of  honest  and  zealous  conviction. 

8.  There  the  slave,  timidly  crouching  at  a  distance  to 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEE.  463 

catch  what  stray  sounds  the  winds  might  waft  to  him,  after 
they  had  reached  his  master's  ears,  of  that  doctrine,  so 
strange  and  blessed,  of  man's  fraternity.  And  there  the 
young  and  noble  Roitian,  who  had  come  to  Athens  for  edu- 
cation,— not  to  sit  like  a,  Immble  scholar  at  a  master's  feet, 
but,  with  all  the  pride  of  Rome  upon  his  brow,  to  accept 
what  artists,  poets,  and  philosophers  could  offer  as  their 
homage  to  the  lords  of  earth. 

9.  If  for  a  moment  Paul  felt  as  one  would  think  man 
must  feel  at  being  the  central  object  of  such  a  scene  and 
such  an  assemblage,  there  would  rush  upon  his  mind  the 
majesty  of  Jehovah  ;  and  the  words  of  the  glorified  Jesus  ; 
and  the  thunders  that  struck  him  to  the  earth  on  the  road 
to  Damascus ;  and  the  sense  of  former  efforts,  conflicts, 
and  successes ;  and  the  approach  of  that  judgment  to 
come,  whose  righteousness  and  universality  it  was  now  his 
duty  to  announce. 

10.  Unappalled  and  collected,  he  began:  —  "Ye  men 
of  Athens,  I  perceive  that  in  all  things  ye  are  too  super- 
stitious. For  as  I  passed  by,  and  beheld  your  devotions, 
I  found  an  altar  with  this  inscription.  To  the  unknown 
God.  Whom,  therefore,  ye  ignorantly  worship.  Him  de- 
clare I  unto  you.  God  that  made  the  world,  and  all 
things  therein,  seeing  that  He  is  Lord  of  heaven  and 
earth,  dwelleth  not  in  temples  made  with  hands ;  neither 
is  worshiped  with  men's  hands,  as  though  He  needed  any 
thing ;  seeing  He  giveth,  to  all,  life,  and  breath,  and  all 
things ;  and  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men  for 
to  dwell  on  all  the  face  of  the  earth."* 

*  Acts  17th  chap.,  22-26th  verses. 


464  SANDERS'  UNION   SERIES. 

LESSOI^    CL. 

TRUTH  AND  FREEDOM. 

WILLIAM   D.  GALLAGHER. 


.QN 


the  page  that  is  immortal, 
We  the  brilHant  promise  see : 
Ye  shall  know  the  truth,  my  peop\t5, 
And  its  might  shall  make  you  free !  '* 


2.  For  the  truth,  then,  let  us  battle. 

Whatsoever  fate  betide : 
Long  the  boast  that  we  are  freemen 
We  have  made,  and  published  wide. 

3.  He  who  has  the  truth,  and  keeps  it. 

Keeps  what  not  to  him  belongs. 
But  performs  a  selfish  action. 
That  his  fellow-mortal  wrono-s. 

4.  He  who  seeks  the  truth,  and  tremblet 

At  the  dangers  he  must  brave, 
Is  not  fit  to  be  a  freeman : 
He,  at  best,  is  but  a  slave. 

6.  He  who  liears  the  truth,  and  places 
Its  high  promptings  under  ban, 
Loud  may  boast  of  all  that's  manly, 
But  can  never  be  a  man. 

6.  Friend,  this  simple  lay  who  readest, 
Be  not  thou  like  either  them. 
But  to  truth  give  utmost  freedom ; 
And  the  tide  it  raises,  stem. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  465 

7.  Bold  in  speech,  and  bold  in  action, 

Be  forever  !     Time  will  test, 
Of  the  free-souled  and  the  slavish, 
Which  fulfills  life's  mission  best. 

8.  Be  thou  like  the  noble  ancient,  — 

Scorn  the  threat  that  bids  thee  fear : 
Speak  !  —  no  matter  what  betide  thee  : 
Let  them  strike,  but  make  them  hear  I 

9.  Be  thou  like  the  first  apostles, 

Be  thou  like  heroic  Paul : 
If  a  free  thought  seeks  expression, 
Speak  it  boldly,  speak  it  all ! 

10.  Face  thine  enemies  —  accusers  ; 
Scorn  the  prison,  rack,  or  rod ; 
And,  if  thou  hast  truth  to  utter, 
Speak,  and  leave  the  rest  to  God ! 


LESSO:^    CLI. 
NOT  DEAD,  BUT   SLEEPING. 

II.  A.  GERE. 

1.   TTE  is  not  dead  ;   he  is  but  sleeping  ,- 
(pZ.)  J_J_    The  cold,  cold  grave  is  only  keeping 
The  dust  to  dust  returning  : 
Death  could  not  claim  the  soul  immortal ; 
For  angels  from  the  heavenly  portal 
Bent  o'er  with  eager  yearning. 
30 


466  SANDERS'   UNION  SEEIE8. 

2.  They  saw  the  failing  life-blood  quiver, 

As  soul  and  flesh  neared  Death's  dark  river, 

And  at  its  billows  parted ; 
Then  bore  to  Heaven  with  holy  voicings 
The  ransomed  spirit  amid  rejoicings, — 

The  youthful,  noble-hearted. 

3.  They  left  within  the  house  of  mourning 
The  casket,  robbed  of  its  adorning,  — 

The  soul  that  never  slumbers  : 
All  beauteous  was  it  yet  in  seeming, 
As  one  who  sleeps  in  quiet  dreaming, 

Or  lists  to  pleasant  numbers. 

4.  And  it  was  strano;e  to  see  him  lyinor 
Arrayed  in  vestments  of  the  dying ; 

Oh,  it  was  sad  and  dreary! 
For  he  was  young,  and  bright,  and  blooming, 
With  ardent  hopes  before  him  looming. 

And  heart  that  ne'er  was  weary. 

5.  The  good  and  right  with  boldness  doing, 
The  better  path  in  all  pursuing. 

And  faithful  in  each  duty, 
His  life  was  one  harmonious  blending. 
To  all  a  gracious  influence  lending, 

So  full  of  truth  and  beauty. 

6.  But  all  is  o'er :  each  young  ambition 
Burned  brightly  till  his  youthful  mission 

Drew  near  its  final  closing; 
Then,  unto  God  his  spirit  giving. 
He  ceased  to  labor  with  the  living. 

And  slept  in  sweet  reposing. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  467 

And  though  the  grave  his  form  is  keeping, 
He  is  not  dead,  he  is  but  sleeping. 

To  wake  to  joys  supernal : 
One  seraph  more  in  Heaven  is  dwelling. 
One  more  redeemed  the  chorus  swelling, 

To  praise  the  great  Eternal. 


LESSON    CLII. 

^  Sis'  t  phus,  (in  mythology,)  a  king  of  Corinth,  son  of  Mollis,  famed  for 
his  cunning.  He  was  killed  by  Theseus,  and  condemned  by  Pluto  to 
roll  to  the  top  of  a  hill  a  huge  stone,  which  constantly  recoiled,  and 
•  made  his  task  incessant. 

-  He  rod''  o  tus,  a  native  of  Halicarnassus,  a  Dorian  city  in  Asia  Minor, 
was  born  484  B.C.  He  has  been  styled  the  "  Father  of  History."  To 
collect  the  necessary  materials  for  his  great  work,  he  visited  almost 
every  part  of  Greece  and  its  dependencies,  and  many  other  countries, 
investigating  minutely  the  history,  manners,  and  customs  of  the  people. 
His  history  consists  of  nine  books,  which  bear  the  names  of  the  Nine 
Muses.  Next  to  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  the  history  of  Herodotus  is 
one  of  the  greatest  works  of  Greek  literary  genius. 

'Di  o  do'rus,  a  famous  Greek  historian,  first  century  b.c,  was  the  author 
of  a  universal  history  of  forty  book's,  of  which  only  fifteen  and  some 
fragments  are  extant. 

THE  SPHINX  AND  THE  GREAT  PYRAMID. 

REV.  S.  1.  PRIME. 

AS  we  approached  the  edge  of  the  desert,  we  encountered 
a  storm  of  sand  that  was  borne  through  the  air,  and 
cut  off  all  view  of  the  Pyramids  until  we  were  almost  upon 
them.  At  length,  we  see  them  in  the  midst  of  this  myste- 
rious cloud,  sublime  and  solemn,  the  mighty  memorials  of 
a  dim  and  distant  past.  They  are  even  more  sublime  as 
we  now  behold   them   in  the   sands  of  the  desert,  which 


468  SANDERS'  UNION  SEEIES. 

seems  to  be  aroused  like  the  ocean,  and  is  rising  and  curl- 
ing around  the  heads  of  these  hoary  sentinels. 

2.  The  sand-storm  became  so  furious,  that  some  of  the 
beasts  refused  to  proceed  against  it,  and  actually  turned 
around,  and  headed  the  other  way,  until  its  violence  was 
past.  Happily,  it  was  of  short  continuance ;  and  it  afforded 
us  a  fine  opportunity  of  witnessing  one  of  those  terrible 
commotions,  which,  when  encountered  on  the  desert,  often 
prove  terribly  fatal  to  the  unhappy  caravans  they  over- 
take. The  storm  is  over ;  the  sun  returns.  Before  us  are 
the  Pyramids,  and  in  their  midst  the  mighty  Sphinx  look- 
ing out  upon  the  plain. 

3.  I  confess  to  a  strange,  almost  superstitious  feeling  as 
I  halted  before  the  Sphinx,  and  gazed  upward  on  this  silent 
and  mighty  monument,  —  a  huge  form,  rising  sixty  feet 
from  the  ground,  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  long,  and  the 
head  more  than  a  hundred  feet  in  circumference,  with 
mutilated  but  yet  apparent  human  features,  looking  out 
toward  the  fertile  land  and  the  Nile.  It  suddenly  im- 
pressed me  as  it  were  indeed  the  divinity  of  ancient 
Egypt.  The  Arabs  of  the  present  day  call  it  ''  The 
Father  of  Terror,"  or  immensity. 

4.  An  ignorant  people  might  be  easily  tempted  to  regard 
it  with  reverence  and  fear.  In  its  state  of  pristine  perfec- 
tion, no  single  statue  in  Egypt  could  have  vied  with  it. 
When  the  lower  part  of  the  figure,  which  had  been  cov- 
ered up  with  the  sand,  was  at  length  uncovered  for  a  while 
by  the  laborious  and  Sisyphus  ^-like  toil,  (the  sand  slipping 
down  almost  as  fast  as  it  could  be  removed,)  it  presented 
the  appearance  of  an  enormous  couchant  Sphinx,  with 
gigantic  paws,  between  which  crouched,  as  if  for  protec 
tion,  a  miniature  temple,  with  a  platform  and  flights  of 
steps  for  approaching  it,  with  others  leading  down  fror^ 
the  plain  above. 


UNION  FIFTH  READER.  469 

5.  A  crude  brick  wall  protected  it  from  the  sand.  It  is 
hardly  possible  to  conceive  a  more  strange  and  imposing 
spectacle  than  it  must  have  formerly  presented  to  the  wor- 
shiper, advancing  as  he  did  along  this  avenue  of  approach, 
confined  between  the  sand- walls  of  the  ravine,  and  looking 
up  over  the  temple  to  the  colossal  head  of  the  tutelary 
deity,  which  beamed  down  upon  him  from  an  altitude  of 
sixty  feet  with  an  aspect  of  god-like  benignity. 

6.  As  yet,  no  entrance  has  been  effected;  and  it  is 
probably  carved  from  the  solid  rock.  Neither  is  there 
reason  to  suppose  that  it  had  relation  to  the  Pyramids,  in 
whose  vicinity  it  stands.  I  think  it  very  strange  that 
Herodotus^  makes  no  mention  of  the  Sphinx,  nor  Diodo- 
rus,^  nor,  indeed,  any  ancient  author  before  the  Roman 
age,  though  its  great  antiquity  is  well  established  by  the 
inscriptions  that  are  found  upon  It. 

7.  The  statue  seems  to  be  crumbling;  and  the  head  has 
been  so  mutilated,  that  the  cap  which  formerly  covered  it, 
and  the  beard,  are  nearly  all  gone.  I  rode  around  it,  and 
then  walked  out  on  the  wave  of  sand  to  the  pedestal,  and 
crept  along  as  nearly  under  the  monster  as  I  could  get, 
and  found  that  the  sense  of  veneration  wore  away  as  I 
became  familiar  with  the  mass  of  stone  that  stands  here  so 
mysteriously,  —  a  greater  wonder.  In  my  view,  than  the 
Pyramids  themselves.  What  Is  Its  original  design  ?  Who 
made  It  ?  These  are  questions  never  to  be  answered  by 
any  thing  safer  than  conjecture. 

8.  Doubtless  the  Sphinx  was  an  object  of  worship,  and 
was  carved  out  of  a  rock  in  the  Lyblan  range  for  that  pur- 
pose. Viewed  in  this  light,  or  even  in  the  dim  twilight  of 
utter  ignorance,  as  to  Its  design,  It  certainly  remains  the 
most  mysterious  and  Impressive  of  the  monuments  of 
Egypt.     If  these   lips   could   speak,  what   a   story   would 


470  SANDERS'  UNION  SERIES. 

they  tell !  If  these  eyes  could  see,  on  what  wondrous 
scenes  they  would  have  looked  in  the  four  thousand  years 
that  those  stone  orbs  have  been  gazing  upon  the  plains  of 
Egypt !  —  the  rising  and  retiring  of  her  wonderful  river, 
coming  like  a  divinity  to  prepare  her^bosom  for  the  seed, 
and  then  retiring  that  the  flower  and  fruits  may  gladden 
the  soil,  and  reward  the  laborer's  toil. 

9.  Size  of  the  Great  Pyramid.  —  Have  you  ever 
stood  in  the  center  of  a  twelve-acre  lot  ?  Mark  off  in 
your  mind's  plantation  twelve  acres,  and  cover  the  ground 
with  layers  of  huge  hewn  stone,  so  nicely  fitted  that  the 
joints  can  scarcely  be  discerned.  Over  this  platform,  but 
two  feet  within  the  outer  edge,  put  on  another  layer,  and 
another,  leaving  but  a  single  narrow  passage  into  a  few 
smaller  chambers  in  the  far  interior  of  this  immense  mass, 
that  rises  by  gradually  diminishing  layers  as  it  ascends,  till 
it  reaches  an  apex  twice  the  hight  of  the  loftiest  church- 
spire  in  New  York,  and  you  have  some  idea  of  the  outer 
dimensions  of  the  Great  Pyramid. 

10.  At  the  first  sight  of  this  long-expected  wonder,  we 
•are  not  instantly  overwhelmed  with  the  magnitude  of  the 
pile.  It  takes  some  time  to  adjust  one's  mind  to  the 
object ;  and  probably  not  one  man  in  a  thousand  would 
believe  that  this  pyramid  covers  five,  much  less  that  it 
covers  ten,  and  even  twelve  or  thirteen,  acres  of  earth. 
But  it  is  even  so.  And,  as  greatness  and  mystery  are  ele- 
ments of  the  highest  sublimity,  we  are  excited  the  longer 
we  contemplate  these  mighty  structures,  and  strive  to  get 
them  fairly  within  the  grasp  of  the  mind.  They  grow 
every  moment  we  look  upon  them.  They  begin  to  take 
us  in,  and  we  feel  ourselves  gradually  absorbed  by  the 
grandeur  of  the  monument  that  forbids,  yet  invites  us  to 
enter  its  mysterious  portals. 


UNION   FIFTH  EEADEE.  471 


LESSON   CLIIL 

^  Par'  the  non,  a  celebrated  temple  of  Minerva  at  Athens,  in  Greece. 
-  Col  OS  se'  um.     See  note,  page  333. 

'Alham'bra,  a  palace  of  the  Moorish  kings  at  Granada,  affording  an 
unusually  fine  exhibition  of  Saracenic  architecture. 

*  Moor,  a  native  of  the  countries  now  called  Morocco,  Tunis,  Algiers,  and 

Tripoli,  on  the  northern  coast  of  Africa. 

*  Py  tiiag'  o  ras,  a  Greek  philosopher,  born   about  570  years  B.C.     He 

taught  the  doctrine  of  metempsycho' sis,  or  transmigration  of  souls 
through  different  orders  of  animal  existence. 

*  Ho'  MER.     See  note,  page  106. 

ANTIQUITY   OF  EGYPT. 

MRS.  E.  OAKES  smith. 

"  rpHERE  were  giants  in  the  land  in  those  days."  * 
i  Thus,  in  tlie  very  language  of  Scripture,  one  is  led 
to  exclaim,  when  contemplating  Egypt,  the  mother  of  civ- 
ilization, the  cradle  of  the  arts,  the  one  kingdom  standing 
alone  among  the  ancient  things  of  earth,  —  the  ancient 
among  all  that  is  old.  While  its  origin  is  lost  amid  a  dark 
and  obscure  mythology,  Egypt  has  lived  in  the  magnifi- 
cence of  its  own  ruins  to  witness  kinsidoms  and  dvnasties 
rise,  flourish,  and  disappear  under  the  unfailing  progress 
of  time ;  and  nations,  onde  the  glory  and  terror  of  the 
earth,  fade  away,  till  their  memory  is  to  be  sought  in  the 
remains  of  their  genius,  their  works  of  taste,  or  the  splen- 
dor of  their  ruins. 

2.  Egypt  remains,  shorn  of  her  beams,  it  is  true,  yet 
does  she  live  with  a  name  as  enduring  as  the  materials  of 
which  her  stupendous  and  giant-like  monuments  are  con- 
structed.    Carry  the   mind  back  to  the  time  when   the 

*  Genesis,  6th  chap.,  4th  verse. 


472  SANDERS'   UNION  SERIES. 

Tiber,  with  its  vines  and  olives,  glided  in  solitary  beauty 
between  its  verdant  banks,  and  the  seven  hills,  crowned 
with  vegetation  to  their  very  summits,  resounded  only  to 
the  melody  of  the  wild  bird  or  the  tread  of  the  ferocious 
beast,  ere  Romulus  had  laid  the  foundations  even  of  the 
"Eternal  City,"  and  what  was  Egypt  then? 

3.  She  had  become  ruinous  witli  age  :  her  surplus  popu- 
lation had,  centuries  before,  carried  the  arts  to  other  lands, 
and  peopled  kingdoms  that  were  the  glory  of  the  earth. 
Greece,  retaining  the  elements  of  Egyptian  greatness,  had 
remodeled  every  thing  with  a  lighter  and  more  exuberant 
taste  ;  the  superb  grandeur  of  the  original  country  had 
yielded  to  the  elegant  fancy  of  a  refined  and  chastened 
judgment ;  and  arts  and  literature,  freed  from  the  tlirall- 
dom  of  a  gloomy  priesthood,  started  at  once  to  life,  like  the 
fabled  goddess,  armed  and  full-grown. 

4.  Surely  "  there  were  giants  in  the  land  in  those 
days,"  we  involuntarily  exclaim  when  beholding  the  stu- 
pendous works  of  human  labor  that  date  their  origin  to  a 
period  anterior  to  any  certain  records.  The  mountain  of 
solid  granite  has  been  excavated  into  an  idolatrous  temple, 
and  the  chisel  of  the  artist  has  wrought  upon  its  surface 
immense  figures  of  men,  who,  thousands  and  thousands 
of  years  ago,  figured  upon  the  arena  of  life,  and  performed 
the  exploits  there  recorded. 

5.  There  are  the  mementoes  of  their  greatness,  though 
their  names  have  long  since  passed  away,  and  are  forgot- 
ten. Yet  there  stand  those  colossal  men,  the  champions 
of  ancient  Egypt,  living  in  imperishable  granite,  looking 
from  the  sepulcher  of  centuries  upon  the  generations  that 
stare  in  wonderment  upon  them,  not  one  of  whom  can  lift 
the  vail  which  time  has  thrown  over  their  name  and 
deeds.     The  history  of  the  whole  world,  so  far  as  it  is  now 


UNION  FIFTH    KEADEE.  473 

known  to  man,  might  have  been  written  as  it  transpired, 
upon  the  surface  of  tlie  Pyramids,  and  yet  the  shadows  of 
unknown  times  would  rest  upon  their  summits. 

6.  We  must  go  back  to  a  period  long  prior  to  any  cer- 
tain chronology,  if  we  would  even  attempt  to  form  a  con- 
ception of  the  refinement  and  resources  of  this  wonderful 
people.  We  must  violate  the  gloomy  sanctuary  of  the 
mausoleum  and  catacomb,  be  able  to  interpret  the  hiero- 
glyphics of  their  decaying  temples,  and,  wandering  amid 
their  time-honored  Pyramids,  be  gifted  with  a  mental  vision 
that  penetrates  the  dim  twilight  of  ages,  if  we  would  solve 
the  mystery  of  the  early  Egyptians. 

7.  Egypt,  amid  the  nations  of  the  earth,  reminds  us,  if 
we  may  "  compare  great  things  with  small,"  of  the  old  oak 
that  has  braved  the  storms  and  the  changes  of  a  thousand 
years,  and  beheld  sapling  after  sapling  rise  in  its  shadow, 
grow  to  maturity  and  decay,  while  its  own  form  became 
but  the  more  venerable  with  the  moss  of  aores.  The  Par- 
thenon,^  the  Colosseum,'^  and  the  Palace  of  the  Alhambra,^ 
have  each  been  the  pride  and  glory  of  their  respective  na- 
tions, and  are  now  venerable  in  ruins  ;  but  neither  the 
elegant  Greek,  the  stern  Roman,  nor  the  haughty  Moor,'* 
could,  more  than  ourselves,  penetrate  the  obscurity  that 
vails  the  builders  of  these  vast  edifices,  which  vie  in  dura- 
bility with  the  "  everlasting  hills." 

8.  It  was  here  that  Herodotus,  Pythagoras,^  Homer ,^ 
and  all  the  wise  and  gifted  of  Greece,  sat  at  the  feet  of  an 
Egyptian  priesthood,  and  imbibed  those  lessons  of  wisdom 

,and  knowledge  which  they  were  to  convey  to  their  own 
soil,  where,  touched  by  a  livelier  fancy  and  more  elegant 
taste,  they  were  to  produce  works  that  remain  to  this  day, 
the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the  world. 


474  SANDEKS'    UNION   SERIES. 

LESSOK    CLIV. 
CHOICE    EXTRACTS. 

I. 

BUGLE    SONG. 

TENNYSON. 
« 

1.  rPHE  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls, 
X     And  snowy  summits  old  in  story  ; 
The  long  light  shakes  across  the  lakes, 

And  the  wild  cataract  leaps  in  glory. 
Blow,  bugle,  blow  !  set  the  wild  echoes  flying  ; 
Blow,  bugle ;  answer,  echoes,  —  dying,  dying,  dying  ! 

2.  O  hark  !  O  hear  !  how  thin  and  .clear, 

And  thinner,  clearer,  farther  going  I 
O  sweet  and  far,  from  cliff  and  scar. 

The  horns  of  Elf-land  faintly  blowing ! 
Blow  !  let  us  hear  the  purple  glens  replying  : 
Blow,  bugle  ;  answer,  echoes,  —  dying,  dying,  dying ! 

3.  O  love  !   they  die  in  yon  rich  sky ; 

They  faint  on  hill,  or  field,  or  river ! 
Our  echoes  roll  from  soul  to  soul. 

And  grow  forever  and  forever. 
Blow,  bugle,  blow  !  set  the  wild  echoes  flying ; 
And  answer,  echoes,  answer,  —  dying,  dying,  dying ! 


UNION  FIFTH  HEADER  475 

II. 

THE    AGE    OF    PROGRESS. 

CHARLES  SUMNER. 

1.  The  age  of  chivalry  has  gone.  An  age  of  hu- 
manity has  come.  The  horse,  whose  importance,  more 
than  human,  gave  the  name  to  that  early  period  of  gallant- 
ry and  war,  now  yields  his  foremost  place  to  man.  In 
serving  him,  in  promoting  his  elevation,  in  contributing  to 
his  welfare,  in  doing  him  good,  there  are  fields  of  bloodless 
triumph,  nobler  far  than  any  in  which  the  bravest  knight 
ever  conquered.  Here  are  spaces  of  labor,  wide  as  the 
world,  lofty  as  heaven. 

2.  Let  me  say,  then,  in  the  benison  once  bestowed  upon 
the  youthful  knight,  —  Scholars,  jurists,  artists,  philanthro- 
pists, heroes  of  a  Christian  age,  companions  of  a  celestial 
knighthood,  "  Go  forth.  Be  brave,  loyal,  and  successful ! " 
And  may  it  be  our  office  to  light  a  fresh  beacon-fire  sacred 
to  truth  !  Let  the  flame  spread  from  hill  to  hill,  from 
island  to  island,  from  continent  to  continent,  till  the  long 
lineage  of  fires  shall  illumine ^all  the  nations  of  the  earth, 
animating  them  to  the  holy  contests  of  Knowledge,  Jus- 
tice, Beauty,  Love.  # 

III. 

CLEAR    THE    WAY. 

1.  There's  a  fount  about  to  stream, 
There's  a  light  about  to  beam. 
There's  a  warmth  about  to  glow. 
There's  a  flower  about  to  blow. 
There's  a  midnight  blackness  changing 

Into  gray : 
Men  of  thought,  and  men  of  uction, 

Clear  the  way  ! 


m 


476  SANDEKS'   UNION   SERIES. 

2.  Aid  the  dawning,  tongue  and  pen ; 
Aid  it,  hopes  of  honest  men  ; 
Aid  it,  paper  ;  aid  it,  type  ; 
Aid  it,  for  the  hour  is  ripe. 
And  our  earnest  must  not  slacken 

Into  play : 
Men  of  thought,  and  men  of  action. 
Clear  the  way  ! 


IV. 

OUR    SAGES    AND    HEROES. 

CHARLES  SPRAGUE. 


To  the  sages  who  spoke,  to  the  heroes  who  bled. 

To  the  day  and  the  deed,  strike  the  harp-strings  of  glory ! 
Let  the  song  of  the  ransomed  remember  the  dead. 
And  the  tongue  of  the  eloquent  hallow  the  story ! 
O'er  the  bones  of  the  bold 
Be  that  story  long  told, 
And  on  Fame's  golden  tablets  their  triumphs  enrolled, 
Who  on  Freedom's  green  hills  Freedom's  banner  unfurled. 
And  the  beacon-fire  raised  that  gave  light  to  the  world ! 


II. 

They  are  gone,  mighty  men  ;  and  they  sleep  in  their  fame  I 

Shall  we  ever  forget  them  ?     Oh,  never !  no,  never ! 
Let  our  sons  learn  from  us  to  embalm  each  great  name. 
And  the  anthem  send  down,    "  Independence  forever !  " 
Wake,  wake,  heart  and  tongue ! 
Keep  the  theme  ever  young ; 


UNION  FIFTH   EEADER.  477 

Let  their  deeds  through  the  long  line  of  ages  be  sung, 
Who  on  Freedom's  green  hills  Freedom's  banner  unfurled, 
And  the  beacon-fire  raised  that  gave  light  to  the  world  I 

V. 

THE  AMERICAN  UNION. 

WEBSTER. 

When  my  eyes  shall  be  turned  to  behold  for  the  last  time 
the  sun  in  heaven,  may  I  not  see  him  shining  on  the  broken 
and  dishonored  fragments  of  a  once-glorious  Union  ;  on 
States  dissevered,  discordant,  belligerent ;  on  a  land  rent 
with  civil  feuds,  or  drenched, it  may  be,  in  fraternal  blood! 
Let  their  last  feeble  and  lino-ering;  glance  rather  behold  the 
gorgeous  ensign  of  the  Republic,  now  known  and  honored 
throughout  the  earth,  still  full  high  advanced,  its  arms  and 
trophies  streaming  in  their  original  luster,  not  a  stripe 
erased  or  polluted,  nor  a  single  star  obscured,  bearing  for 
its  motto  no  such  miserable  interrogatory  as,  "  What  is  all 
this  worth  ?  "  nor  those  other  words  of  delusion  and  folly, 
"  Liberty  first,  and  Union  afterward  ;  "  but  everywhere, 
spread  all  over  in  characters  of  living  light,  blazing  on  all 
its  ample  folds,  as  they  float  over  the  sea  and  over  the  land, 
and  in  every  wind  under  the  whole  heavens,  that  other 
sentiment,  dear  to  every  true  American  heart,  —  Liberty 
AND  Union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable  ! 

VI. 
EXPULSION  FROM    PARADISE. 

MILTON. 

O  unexpected  stroke  !  worse  than  of  death ! 

Must  I  leave  thee,  Paradise  ?  thus  leave 

Thee,  native  soil  ?  these  happy  walks  and  shades, 


478  SAN'DEES'   UNION   SERIES. 

Fit  haunt  of  gods,  where  I  had  hoped  to  spend 

Quiet,  though  sad,  the  respite  of  that  day 

That  must  be  mortal  to  us  both  ?     O  flowers  I 

Tliat  never  will  in  other  climate  grow, 

My  early  visitation  and  my  last 

At  even,  which  I  bred  up  with  tender  hand 

From  the  first  opening  bud,  and  gave  ye  names,  — 

Who  now  shall  rear  ye  to  the  sun,  or  rank 

Your  tribes,  and  water  from  the  ambrosial  fount  ? 

Thee,  lastly,  nuptial  bower  !  by  me  adorned 

With  what  to  sight  or  smell  was  s^weet, —  from  thee 

How  shall  I  part  ?  and  whither  wander  down 

Into  a  lower  world,  to  this  obscure 

And  wild  ?     How  shall  we  breathe  in  other  air 

Less  pure,  accustomed  to  immortal  fruits  ? 

vn. 

WASHINGTON'S  MONUMENT. 

R.  C.  WINTHROP. 

1.  The  wide-spread  Republic  is  the  true  monument  to 
Washington.  Maintain  its  independence  ;  uphold  its  Con- 
stitution ;  preserve  its  union  ;  defend  its  liberty ;  let  it 
stand  before  the  world  in  all  its  original  strength  and 
beauty,  securing  peace,  order,  equality,  and  freedom  to  all 
within  its  boundaries,  and  shedding  light,  and  hope,  and 
joy  upon  the  pathway  of  human  liberty  throughout  the 
Avorld,  —  and  Washington  needs  no  other  monument. 
Other  structures  may  fitly  testify  our  veneration  for  him: 
this,  tliis  alone,  can  adequately  illustrate  his  services  to 
mankind. 

2.  Nor  does  he  need  even  this.  The  Republic  may 
perish ;  the  wide  arch  of  our  ranged  Union  may  fall ;  star 


UNION  FIFTH  EEADEE.  479 

by  star  its  glories  may  expire  ;  stone  by  stone  its  columns 
and  its  Capitol  may  molder  and  crumble  ;  all  other  names 
which  adorn  its  annals  may  be  forgotten  :  but  as  long  as 
human  hearts  shall  anywhere  pant,  or  human  tongues  shall 
anywhere  plead,  for  a  true,  rational,  constitutional  hberty, 
those  hearts  shall  enshrine  the  memory,  and  those  tongues 
lorolong  the  fame,  of  George  Washington  ! 

VIII. 
THE   LORD    OUR  PROVIDER. 

WORDSWOliTH. 

Author  of  being,  life-sustaining  King, 

Lo  !  Want's  dependent  eye  from  Thee  implores 
The  seasons,  which  provide  nutritious  stores  : 

Give  to  her  prayers  the  renovating  Spring, 

And  Summer-heats  all  perfecting,  that  bring 

The  fruits  which  Autumn  from  a  thousand  stores 
Selecteth  provident,  when  Earth  adores 

Her  God,  and  all  her  vales  exulting  sing. 

Without  Thy  blessing,  the  submissive  steer 
Bends  to  the  plowman's  galling  yoke  in  vain  ; 

Without  Thy  blessing  on  the  varied  year. 

Can  the  swarth  reaper  grasp  the  golden  grain'  ? 

Without  Thy  blessing,  all  is  black  and  drear ; 
With  it,  the  joys  of  Eden  bloom  again. 

IX. 

MORAL    AND    REPUBLICAN    PRINCIPLES. 

EDWARD  EVERETT. 

1.  War  may  stride  over  the  land  with  the  crushing  step 
of  a  giant  ;  pestilence  may  steal  over  it  like  an  invisible 
curse,  reaching  its  victim  silently  and  unseen,  unpeopling 


480  SANDERS'   UJ^ION   SERIES. 

here  a  village,  and  there  a  city,  until  every  dwelling  is  a 
sepulcher ;  famine  may  brood  over  it  with  a  long  and 
weary  visitation,  until  the  sky  itself  is  brazen,  and  the 
beautiful  greenness  gives  place  to  a  parched  desert,  a 
wide  waste  of  unproductive  desolation  :  but  these  are  only 
physical  evils.  The  wild  flower  will  bloom  in  peace  on 
the  field  of  battle  and  above  the  crushed  skeleton.  The 
destroying  angel  of  the  pestilence  will  retire  when  his 
errand  is"  done,  and  the  nation  will  again  breathe  freely  ; 
and  the  barrenness  of  famine  will  cease  at  last,  —  the 
cloud  will  be  prodigal  of  its  hoarded  rain,  and  the  wilder- 
ness will  blossom. 

2.  But  for  moral  desolation  there  is  no  reviving  spring. 
Let  the  moral  and  republican  principles  of  our  country  be 
abandoned ;  let  impudence,  and  corruption,  and  intrigue 
triumph  over  honesty  and  intellect,  —  and  our  liberties  and 
strength  will  depart  forever.  Of  these  there  can  be  no 
resuscitation.  The  ''  abomination  of  desolation  "  will  be 
fixed  and  perpetual ;  and,  as  the  mighty  fabric  of  our 
glory  totters  into  ruins,  the  nations  of  the  earth  will  mock 
us  in  our  overthrow,  like  the  powers  of  darkness,  when  the 
throned  one  of  Babylon  became  even  as  themselves,  and 
the  "glory  of  the  Chaldees'  excellency  had  gone  down 
forever." 


THE       END. 


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